


Steve Rogers Loves Chubby Women

by NothingTame



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BBW, Banter, Big Beautiful Women, F/M, Flirting, I don't know why I'm writing this, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Phone Sex, Please Send Help, Rough Sex, Sex, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, confident BBW, crack fic?, dear god please don't think less of me, i am weak, it practically wrote itself, it's those god damn shoulders, non-canon, probably AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingTame/pseuds/NothingTame
Summary: A dating site for plus-sized women and the people that love them leads to Lani Jones meeting a certain Captain America.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing with my life. This is so painfully Mary Sue I'm having a hard time hitting 'post'.  
> This is complete and utter garbage based on a dream but it was too delicious not to write up.  
> Not my usual format, either, kind of spontaneous, didn't want to post it until half of it was done.  
> I still hope you enjoy it. It really did just kind of write itself. 
> 
> I do not own anything Marvel, I just play in their sandbox.

Nothing good comes of dating sites. Lani knew this. Yet here she was, doing what she swore she wouldn't over a year ago. Again.

 _"It's different,"_ swore Tiffany.

Lani rolled her eyes at the memory, even as she picked out a screen-name and began the long task of filling out answers to inane questions.

 _"It caters to big beautiful booties like you!"_ promised Tiffany.

It seemed to, that was for sure; Big Ladies Need Love Too dot com catered to the lovers of big-beautiful-women as well as the women themselves, to rave reviews and purportedly orgasmic results.

"Yey," muttered Lani, sighing as she continued to tap in answer after answer, taking the occasional sip from her glass of wine coupled now and then with a piece of dark chocolate. An hour passed before she was finally finished with that part, leaving what she was looking for blank, her gender preference blank, and selecting her usual profile picture: a white plumeria blossom set against a mass of dark curls with one gleaming eye peering out between, shot in black and white.

With a few indignant, angry taps, she slapped the enter key.

"There," she grumbled, turning away from her computer. "It's done." She sent Tiffany the link just to prove she had. "Stupid bet," she added before standing, turning off her monitor and heading towards her bathroom.

Brushing her teeth, she glared at herself in the mirror.

 _What was I thinking?_ she thought angrily at herself. _You'd think I'd learned in college that no one in the world can beat Tiffany Payne at beer pong._ She spat into the sink, turning on the water to rinse out her mouth before tapping her toothbrush against the edge. "Even when we were in our twenties!" she muttered, stalking to bed, shedding clothing as she went. Stupid, stupid bet.

* * *

  
One shot left. Lani was giggling. Tiffany was serious.

"I make this shot, I win," she leered at Lani. Lani rolled her dark eyes. "If I win this," Tiff continued, "you make the profile."

"What's the big fucking deal about this damn dating thing," slurred Lani, who'd had as many beers at Tiff but for all that she was twice Tiffany's size, could not hold her alcohol near as well. "I don't have a problem finding dates."

"That's because you're hot as fuck," agreed Tiffany. Lani laughed, shaking her head. "No, you are; you're confident and gorgeous and I love you. But, Lani, honey? You have shit taste in men."

Lani glared. "Fair point. But. What difference does it make then where I find them?"

Tiffany sighed. "Look, let me beat you and then I'll explain-"

"-bitch!"

_Welp._

An hour into explaining the website Tiffany worked at, Lani groaned, her face planted on the patio table. "How do you do this to me every time?"

"You didn't learn from- ...wait, have you been listening to me at all?"

"Yes. I have. I'll do it, but I still don't understand what the difference is gonna be. From a collection of men, you said so yourself; I pick the assholes every fucking time."

"The site is different. We verify everyone, background checks, we even go through Facebook profiles, established reputations, work history-"

Lani lifted her head to squint at Tiffany. "That sounds like a lot of work. For you."

Her best friend since fourth grade, Tiffany sighed. "It is. I've been trying to tell you; it's an exclusive dating site. All of our dating sites are. This one just happens to be the beta for a BBW-specific matching site. It's a win-win; you sign on, get matched with some nice, stellar, dick-pic-free conversations and dates, I get to monitor the algorithm and the back-end coding. We have five-hundred free accounts to test; I only had ten to pass out, you're the first person I asked since Monday, the rest over the week have been taken. I saved this one for you." Tiffany looks comical, pressing her hands together, begging Lani. Lani tries very hard not to laugh. "Please. I promise. If you don't like it? I'll delete your account, you're done. But it helps me help you, and it ... helps me."

Lani wrinkles her nose. "It sounds like a fetish site-"

"It's not. I swear. I mean, it's a preference, for sure, but it's not ... like that. If a profile looks like it's leaning that way, they're shuffled to another site we have for that kinda thing." Tiffany wriggles her fingers. "This one is for relationships. That's the difference."

Lani rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Send it to me tomorrow, I'll forget otherwise-" The rest of her words were lost as Tiffany threw herself at Lani and hugged her around the neck, squealing.

"You won't regret this! I swear!" Tiffany laughed.

Beer pong had clearly been rigged.

* * *

 _I'm regretting this already,_ thought Lani, staring at the mounting number of messages in her BLNL2 inbox.

So far, Tiff had been right; no dick pics. But a lot of long-winded messages about who she was, where she was, what they liked about her answers to a particular series of questions on the questionnaire. It all just seemed so ...

... _boring?_ she thought, struggling herself to find the right description.

A lot of pictures and profiles of men and women from all types and walks of life, most of them professionals here in city, some students, others somewhere between here and there. Nothing that caught her eye, though.

_Maybe Tiffany is right; maybe I'm just depressed._

Lani sat on that thought for a minute, chewing at her bottom lip.

"God dammit, no," she growled to herself, slamming her laptop shut in the coffee shop she'd camped at for the morning, stuffing it into her bag before yanking it over her shoulder.

The autumn air was crisp in the morning, bringing with it the scent of the waking city as she stalked out to meet it full on. Some parts of the city were still being rebuilt from some thing or another, the music of construction filling the air; it was pretty common these days, since the Big Green Guy destroyed Harlem, the Devil wrecked Hell's Kitchen, and the Avengers, well ... took out everything else. And now they had a Spider-Guy.

It was a strange world these days.

Lani was still pretty new to it all. From the mid-West, she'd only been in the city for about a year. Tiffany was her best friend, her roommate, her savior all things big city, and the reason she'd moved. All worth it, really, just to get out of Illinois, to try something different, to start over.

 _But here I am,_ she thought angrily, dodging skateboards and cabs as she trotted through a cross-walk, the sidewalks starting to fill as foot-traffic commuters headed to work in the wee hours. _Moody and dumb and-_

The pessimism was gross; after months of it, Lani was getting tired of hearing herself think.

Paint, Ink, & Canvas wasn't a bad gig. It wasn't the end-all, be-all, but it was something she liked to do. Managing an art store had its perks, and while her illustration career wasn't going anywhere at all, the very least she could be was surrounded by art supplies. All day. Every day. And it didn't matter that a quarter of her paycheck went right back to the store; buying art supplies was one of the few things that made her happy.

The first one in, always, she unlocked the front door after lifting the grate, closing both behind her as she started the daily chores of opening the store. It wasn't huge but it was specialized, and they made just as much money with their late-afternoon, early-evening art classes. She didn't teach any of those yet; most of her time was spent helping the owners maintain some kind of profit margin, inventory, schedules. They had a steady stream of business, but the owners, being up in years, had been over-charged for really stupid reasons-

  
_"Mr. Preston you don't need to buy your oil paints from third party vendors, you can go straight to the supplier at a third of the cost-"_  
_"But doesn't that mean we cut out our good friend, the-?"_  
_"Mr. Preston, you and your wife have been dealing with the fourth incarnation of that company; the original supplier sold their brand twenty-five years ago."_  
_"Oh. Oh dear. Well, at least we have our other-"_  
_"Mr. Preston. Sit down. We need to talk."_

  
-but it was sorted now. With their very well established reputation and business accounts, they were able to drop their prices on a lot of their supplies. Hence? Profits went up.

"Ah, Leilani, good morning!" Abigail Preston greeted Lani with a beaming smile about fifteen minutes later, coming through the back way, her white hair pinned up in a high bun.

"Just 'Lani', Mrs. Preston, please," Lani said with a sigh, her own smile warm even as her tone was exasperated.

"Oh, but you've such a pretty name-!"

"Mother, please," responded Savannah, the owners' daughter, a woman in her fifties who didn't look a day over thirty. "You're making her uncomfortable, please don't chase off the only person in ten years that's managed to talk sense into Dad." Savannah's green eyes twinkled from around the corner of a supply closet, her white-streaked hair fashionably short. "Then we'll go back into foreclosure talk and you know what that does for your ulcers."

As Mrs. Preston spluttered at her daughter, Lani giggled her way up to the front of the shop, counting out the register after unwinding her scarf from around her neck. By the time the grate and door were officially unlocked, she was almost in a good mood.

And then her phone started to ping.

BLNL2 apparently had an app Tiffany had installed without telling her, the offending program announcing its activity despite Lani's attempts to silence it without muting her phone.

Infuriated cursing five minutes later, she silenced her entire phone and stuffed it into her bag under the counter, Lani vowing under her breath to murder Tiffany in her sleep. Maybe by drowning her in beer.

* * *

  
The day had been busy. It was a week before Thanksgiving break and they offered a lot of early Christmas deals, advertising in a lot of small local papers and the surrounding art schools; the sales had started today and had kept the place hopping until closing. Busy was good; busy meant the day went by fast and Lani could get back home to the brownstone she shared with Tiffany.

Well. It was more like, Tiffany's parents let her live there, and Tiffany let Lani keep her out of trouble.

It was a great space, she loved the house. She had a large bedroom and a studio right next to it, with big windows, her desks and shelves crammed with projects and drawings, paintings, and paints, brushes, pencils, inks... It was perfect. Almost heavenly.

And yet.

"TIFFANY!" Lani shouted when she came home, shutting the door and promptly locking it.

"What?" came the call from basement.

Lani headed down, just under the main staircase that led upstairs. The basement was set up to be soundproof, which was good for both women; Tiff liked to code with bass. Serious bass. A lot of bass.

Bass that was being turned down even as Lani scolded her, stomping down the steps.

"When did you put the app on my phone?" she grumbled, collapsing on the worn sofa just inside Tiff's door. Tiff swiveled her chair like some kind of mob villain, the pretty woman smirking at her roommate.

"After you sent me your profile link," she snickered. "I stole your phone and hooked you up while you slept. Also," she added. "You should wash your hands before you work at your computer; oil paint and keyboards don't do well."

"It was chocolate, oil paint is full of cancer, I don't touch the shit if I can help it," came Lani's indignant mutter, peering at her phone, swiping through screens. "You didn't put anything else on here did you?"

"Pfft, what do you take me for?"

"An evil, scheming Korean woman."

"I'm only half Korean."

"So, only half evil?"

"I'm never letting my mother cook for you ever again-"

"Noooooooo! I take it back!"

A little bit later, the two women sat in their kitchen, eating dinner.

"So, any good ones yet? I noticed your inbox is gettin' crammed. Only a matter of time before you do too," Tiffany snickered around a mouthful of steamed vegetables.

"You said it wasn't that kind of website!" laughed Lani, amused. "Were you lying? Is it just another hook-up site?"

"Fuck, shut up," Tiff groaned. "No, not if I can help it. Our culture is over-saturated with that shit, it's so stupid."

"Not yet," Lani snorted. "I've looked through the ones that might be interesting, but that was this morning. Haven't had a chance to check them out since."

"I put up that full body silhouette photo I did this summer."

Lani choked on her food while Tiff grinned over the rim of her glass.

"What?! WHY?" Lani looked for something to throw at her friend.

"It's just your curvy shadow! It's hot! And discrete. Ow!" she laughed, dodging a thrown fork as it bounced harmlessly off the tiled floor. "Look, if you don't advertise the goods, no one is gonna know what's on the table!"

"I'm not meat, Tiffany!"

"But you are delicious, Lani!"

"Fuck me, that explains the influx of messages while I was at work this morning."

"Yeah, I added the photo after I woke up this morning."

"Dammit, woman-"

* * *

Lani wasn't brave enough to go through her phone until after dinner. And after she'd been working in her studio. In fact, she didn't look at her phone until she was in bed, showered, exfoliated, and ready to sleep. Her laptop was set up on her comforter, the rest of her under the blankets. _Aliens_ was playing, one of her favorite movies; it helped her brain unbend from the overwhelming, growing number hovering above her inbox.

"God, I'm gonna kill that woman," she grumbled, swiping open the app on her phone, flipping through it while the soothing sound of Marines screaming on her laptop filtered through her room.

The messages continued to be typical. Boring. Pleas for interest, comments on her body, pointed references from her profile. They weren't bad; grammar was decent, it was a diverse collection of parties. Just. Nothing stood out. Deleting messages as she read them, by the time the credits rolled her inbox was empty again.

Lani sighed. _Maybe it's me. My standards are stupid._

She tugged off her glasses and set them on her nightstand, reaching up to turn off the light. She plugged in her phone and punched at her pillow, trying to get it comfortable. Her thoughts spiraled downward, the good mood from the day crumbling beneath the despair of inevitable.  
_Alone. I'm gonna be alone._

She smirked, a point of hope piercing through her pity party. _Or worse. It'll be me and Tiff and our ten thousand rescued pets._

* * *

_Ping._

It was late. She'd been sleeping. Lani rubbed at her face.

_Ping ping._

"Oh my god Tiff I'ma kill you-" mumbled the woman as she groped out for her phone on the table by her bed.

Squinting in the dark at the lit screen, she thumbed for the settings to silence the thing, having just done so before it vibrated, another notification coming through.

Three new messages from-

She squinted again.

_Oh. One person, three messages?_

Curiosity getting the best of her, she tapped open the app. She didn't select the right thing, it opened the profile of the person and not the messages in her inbox.

Veteran. Huh. Male. Thirties. Local.

S. Buchanan. His profile had only one line:

_'Looking for connections in a world that has a lot of ways to do so without guarantees. Something witty here.'_

That had her sitting up a little in bed, her hair, still damp from her shower, spilling over one bare shoulder. Her eyes adjusted to the dim screen, she scrolled through to their compatibility score.

Sixty-five percent. The highest yet.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she mulled it over, her thumb hovering over his message icon.

_Oh what the hell._

**SBuchanan:** _Well, it ain't a hundred percent but you're the closest match I've had so far. So, hello. I like your comment on 40s aesthetic and dance, sounds like you know a bit about the military life from the side-lines, and decent taste in music._

That was a little cynical, she thought. She read the next message and smirked.

 **SB:** _Okay, so that was a little cynical for an opener. I'm sorry about that. I really don't know why I said it that way. Maybe I'm just tired._

Yeah. She could relate to that.

 **SB:** _Also I have no idea what I'm doing here. Am I reading between the lines and thinking you're a bit of the same? Or ... I could just be assuming. I do that sometimes. Assume. And I ramble when I'm nervous. Or I do when I'm speaking. I guess I do when I'm writing too. Why is that? Maybe my friends are right; I should see a therapist._

Okay. This one definitely had promise. Lani took another minute rereading his messages before starting to reply, noticing only then that his little floating ellipses were working; he'd been typing too.

 **SB:** _Oh no, I really hope I didn't wake you._

 **LaniLuvaCreek:** _That's a little presumptuous of you, thinking you had such an impact when we've only just 'met'._

 **SB:** _Well, did I? I swear, I didn't notice the time until just now._

Lani checked the hour; two in the morning. She winced.

 **LLC:** _Fair enough; you did wake me, but? You seemed worth it._

 **SB:** _A little presumptuous?_

Lani giggled.

 **LLC:** _Eh. Maybe. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was all the rambling._

 **SB:** _Rude._

She snorted.

 **LLC:** _You're the one that woke me up._

 **SB:** _A good point, but you left your phone on, it seems._

 **LL** **C:** _I did. A mistake on my part. But I'm glad I did._

 **SB:** _Oh no. A barrage of little notices all day?_

 **LL** **C:** _It's a new account. And a new picture._

 **SB:** _The shadow-figure one? I liked that one. It's nice. Artsy._

 **LL** **C:** _Not my idea. My friend put it on my phone last night. I usually don't put up images of my body or my face in my profiles. It can get weird._

 **SB:** _You've done this kind of thing before?_

 **LL** **C:** _I'm in my thirties; I've done a few._

 **SB:** _I'm completely new to this. I didn't put any up. Should I?_

Lani went through his profile. He had a picture of an American flag and MIA/POW image. She winced. Oh no.

 **LL** **C:** _Ah. Maybe._ _What you have up could give the wrong impression. I mean I get it, all the men in my family served. You can get some ... extremists._

 **SB:** _I know what you mean. Maybe I should replace them._

 **LL** **C:** _No! Don't do that. I mean, put up what you want. But people can be put off by anything too patriotic these days._

 **SB:** _I'm not a big NRA, gun-toting, MAGA type, I promise. I just didn't know what else to put up. Read: totally new to this._

 **LL** **C:** _Alright. Well, what else interests you? Puppies? Tanks? Booze?_

 **SB:** _Those are my only options?_

 **LL** **C:** _Well no, but it's late and I was sleeping and I'm trying to help a stranger with his profile picture, even if I really think he should just stick with me for now._

 **SB:** _Wow. That's rather straight-forward._

In the solitude of her room, Lani laughed. Again.

 **LL** **C:** _It's been that kind of day,_ she typed, smiling at her phone. _But it's nice to meet you, SB._

 **SB:** _Yeah? You too, Lani. And I think I'll leave my profile alone for now, and just stick with you._

She felt herself blushing; an unexpected response from such an innocent interaction.

He was typing again.

 **SB:**   _It's late, though. I'm gonna let you go to sleep and try talking to you on this contraption tomorrow._

 _Contraption!_ She shook her head, smiling.

 **LL** **C:** _Alright._ _SB? Thanks for reaching out, even if it o'dark ugly._

 **SB:** _Thanks for reaching back, Lani, even if I did wake you up._

 **LL** **C:** _Good night. Talk to you soon._

 **SB:** _Good night._

Lani smiled as she replaced her phone, looking at it as her eyes readjusted to the dark. Well. Let's see where this rabbit hole goes.

* * *

 

SB was definitely not the first thing she thought about the next morning.

In her rapid fire messaging last night, or maybe her sleepy, initial groping, she'd managed to turn off her alarm. She woke up an hour late, panicked, and ran out the door with an apple in her mouth and her hair in a sloppy tail, her jacket hanging off one arm and her scarf dragging from her bag.  
It meant she missed her morning coffee-shop wake-up treat and power-walked/jogged the whole way to the art store. She arrived breathless and flushed and really grumpy. It took until lunch-time before she snapped out of that mood. Sitting at the coffee shop she'd been unable to get to that morning, she opened up her laptop, her heart fluttering only a tiny bit when she saw that she had new messages from one SB Buchanan.

 **SB:** _I hope this is a better time. Unless you work weird hours. I do, so if you send me a message and I don't answer, it's usually that. Work, I mean. Unless this gets weird and I start avoiding you because I'm intimidated or you turn into a member of Hydra or something._

She almost choked on her coffee right there at the shop. It was his only message, from about an hour ago, so she started typing up a reply.

 **LLC:** _Hydra? Ah, no, but I can appreciate that level of paranoia. I know some of the people behind this dating app, I'm told their vetting process is up there with the FBI. If you get weird, I promise to start avoiding you in a clear fashion, so that you have no illusions. Seriously, though, it's rare that I leave people hanging. In fact, I'm known for making it painfully clear why I stop talking to someone, or why I won't date you anymore, or why I have to stay away from you. My roommate says it's why I still have so many exes that stick around as friends; she insists it's because I'm too diplomatic and charming. I don't know what she means. She also calls me an outrageous bitch half the time. Lovingly, as best friends do. I'm sure you know how that can be._

Lani tapped her bottom lip, thinking, before sighing, typing more:

 **LLC:** _Now I'm rambling. You know this used to be easier, I hear; back in the day, people would write letters and strike up relationships that way. I kind of like that idea, you know? I mean, messaging back and forth is fun, but like you said, sometimes work gets in the way. Right now, I'm at lunch. I'm trying to find my humanity in the bottom of my coffee cup, my morning started out kind of frantic because I forgot to set my alarm. I ate my over-priced sandwich and now I'm writing you, after finally having a chance to sit down and look at my messages. I'll be straight with you: it's unlikely I'll be able to do this again until I get home tonight. So I'll ask you a few questions. These are super important, so think hard about your answers. Okay. Favorite color(s), favorite piece of art, be it painting, sculpture, whatever; and finally, favorite thing to do on a Sunday night._

She hit enter. The timer on her phone went off. She sighed, closed her laptop and stuffed it in her bag, cradling her coffee as she went back to work.

* * *

 **SB:** _I know what you mean about best friends. Me and mine ribbed each other as often as we lifted each other up, it was a constant cycle. Appreciate yours though, okay? I lose mine years ago, I miss him everyday. He got me through some serious events in my life and I worry sometimes that he didn't know how much he meant to me._

 **SB:** _Alright, enough of the sad stuff, you'll think I'm some kind of depressed old guy. Let's see. I appreciate your reassurance of clarity, kind of nice to think you won't leave me hanging wondering what I messed up with, and intend to lay it out completely before you go dark on me. I mean, it's not terribly optimistic but it's weirdly reassuring. Thanks for that._

Lani laughed, curled up in bed; she was right, she didn't have a chance to look at her messages until that evening. Music played from her laptop as she unwound with a book. He hadn't replied until a few chapters in, but that was just as well. She let him write, wanting to see what he'd say without interruption.

 **SB:** _Favorite color is blue, but if it counts, I'm partial to polka-dots. Is that lame? That deep, dark blue. It's kind of soothing, I guess. I have a suit that color that I have less reason to wear than I'd like. Maybe strange for a guy, but it is what it is. I've had it forever, I've only worn it a few times. It's not like dress blues, it's civilian. And ... yeah. I like it._

 **SB:** _Favorite piece of art. I'm sad to say I don't know if I have one. I mean I've seen art, sure, but nothing that's stuck out in my memory. Maybe I should fix that?_

 **SB:** _Favorite thing to do on a Sunday night is probably nothing. Literally, doing nothing. Sitting outside or some place peaceful, and just staring at the skyline. I don't live inside the city but I go there for work fairly often. Sometimes I'll get the chance to sit on a balcony or in a park and I'll just watch people come and go, or even if I'm anywhere else in the world, I like to just sit, soak in the world. It's usually not long after that I'm running out to get something else done, the moments of stillness are precious to me._

 **SB:** _God, I sound like such an old geezer._

 **LLC:** _Nah, not too much. You should go to the Museum of Modern Art the next time you make it out here. Their permanent collection is pretty amazing, I'm sure you'll find something to like. If not a favorite, one that sticks out enough. Art is my life. Sort of._

 **SB:** _An important question, then? Also how long have you been sitting there silently judging what I've written?_

 **LLC:** _Long enough to see that you're a creepy people-watcher._

 **SB:** _I'm not creepy! You don't people-watch? You live in the city, how can you not?_

 **LLC:** _If what you mean by 'people-watch' is 'silently judging'? I do that all day. It's half of my job._

 **SB:** _You don't strike me as someone who 'judges', you still talk to me after my super extremist-promoting profile pictures._

 **LLC:** _That's a clear case of books and covers. An exception but not typical of me. What's your favorite movie?_

 **SB:** _The Wizard of Oz._

 **LLC:** _With Judy Garland?_

 **SB:** _Are you judging me?_

 **LLC:** _No! There's like, nine re-boots of that, I was just making sure._

 **SB:** _Your profile says you're a service brat._

 **LLC:** _Yeah, my dad was in the Air Force. What branch did you serve in?_

 **SB:** _Army. Actually, I still am, but it's complicated._

 **LLC:** _Oh no._

Lani felt herself blanching.

 **LLC:** _Special forces? Okay we're done here._

 **SB:** _What! No! I mean no you aren't serious are you?_

Lani sighed, smiling sadly as she typed.

 **LLC:**   _No. But ya'll are 'bad news bears' according to my dad. 'Steer clear', he'd say. My uncles would say the same. And my brothers. And my grandpa. And half my cousins._

 **SB:** _Jesus. And you didn't join up?_

 **LLC:** _I'm a rebel. The black sheep of the family; I decided to go to art school._

 **SB:** _Ouch._

 **LLC:** _Hey!_

* * *

It was the Friday before fall break. The store was full of people and Lani's notorious bad temper was no where to be found. She was laughing with customers, helping with special orders; she'd been talking to SB through the dating site since Monday, and honestly? Every conversation was the highlight of her day, she enjoyed their interactions and today? Friday? Today was the day she'd actually get to talk to him on the phone.

She was excited. The day could not go by fast enough and yet she still felt like she was on the moon.

Tiffany noticed because of course she was monitoring her interactions. Not reading them, because invasion of privacy and laws and best friend rules, but keeping up with command inputs and whatever kind of coding monitored activity. She didn't drill Lani about him but that was only because she didn't want to scare Lani off the app. Feedback was pretty positive with the beta, but Lani had her personal attention.

"Do  _not_ look into him," Lani had said, deadly serious and pointing a finger at Tiffany's wide-eyed face. 

"But-"

"I know you, you  _can_ look into him because you work for the company and you  _can't_ disclose his information to me because laws and shit, right?"

"Well-"

"-but you can't hold a secret to save your damn life, so just  _don't_. If it goes well, I'll learn about him on my own, okay?"

"-dammit."

 _Tonight tonight tonight tonight!_ Lani's brain sang; she hadn't been this excited about anything in ages. It was awesome. It was  _great._

Which made the message she got right after work utterly crushing for about ten whole seconds.

 **SB:** _Work popped up, I'm out of town for a day or two, but I'll have down time tonight. I'll send you a message when I can. I'm really, really sorry._

The wind out of her sails, the walk home, albeit short, was a grumbling one. 

 _It's not like I didn't know this would happen_ , she thought, old memories stirred up.  _How many times did Dad have to bail on things because of work? How many months was he gone over seas? Or Aunt Nikki, how many times did I see her sad and worried, waiting to hear from Uncle Bill after days of radio silence? Or Auntie Beth? Uncle Jim?_ She kicked at a defenseless rock, hearing it skitter across the street as she stalked home.  _I hope he gets a chance to poke me tonight. I've gotten so used to him and the little bits of talk and conversation. It's ... nice. He's nice._

She glared up the steps to the brownstone, muttering under her breath. 

_...I just hope he's safe._

Bed time found her dozing in front of her laptop again, curled up in bed, blankets tangled up around her, nude as always. Miss Vida Boheme was scolding someone on the movie she had playing, while Noxema Jackson rolled her eyes and muttered some snarky remark.  _To Wong Foo: Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar_ was probably her favorite movie, as far as cheering her up. It never failed.

Comforting as it was, it was also relaxing, and along with her very large glass of wine, she wasn't able to keep her eyes open. The credits were rolling and she was out, breathing evenly, comfortable in her bed, when her phone started to ping.

The lights were still on, it took a few confused mumbles before her eyes shot open, reaching sleepily for her phone and thumbing open the app.

 **SB:** _Are you there?_

 **SB:**   _I'm sorry about tonight. Things got out of hand, I didn't mean to ... stand you up? Bail on you? What's the proper term here?_

Lani smirked sleepily, and, struck by a sassy bit of mischief, aimed the camera at herself and snapped a picture, hit 'send' as a reply. 

It was a decent picture, her soft curves pillowed on her bed, blankets tugged up to her chest, revealing bare shoulders and soft, honey-brown skin, dark eyes and a sleepy smirk. Her hair, dried from her shower in their usual wild curls, spilled over the edge of the bed. It left out nothing, her button nose, her round face and high cheekbones, thick, dark brows and soft lips. 

She usually wasn't that bold, but ... well. 

 **SB:** _Woah. I_

 **SB:**   _I've forgotten how to type on this thing. Wow. I was not expecting that. Hi. Did I wake you again?_

 **LLC:** _It's okay, I was waiting. I don't mind waking up if it's you. And hi. Felt like you deserved something for keeping your promise, even if it wasn't the original one._

 **SB:** _I'm sorry, I'm still trying to recollect myself. You look amazing. I mean, not that it mattered if you didn't but I think you'd look amazing either way it just oh god I should probably stop_

Lani laughed softly, squirming in her bed as she readjusted herself, reaching up to turn off her light. Bold or not, she wasn't going to send him another picture tonight. She texted back as much too, adding,  _I might turn inside out about it in the morning, but oh well._

 **SB:** _Well, thank you. That was really nice. I'm sure you've figured out, if I can't call you, I can't take a return picture._

 **LLC:** _Oh, I figured, but I also didn't send it to get one back. I sent it because I wanted to share. Did I look like how you expected? The silhouette picture is revealing but not that revealing._

Tiffany took that for one of her college courses, ages ago: Lani backlit, laying on her side on a log in the woods. It revealed the exaggerated mountain of her hip, the dip of her waist and the upward climb of her shoulder, her arm draped in front of her, her other propping her head up. It was beautiful, there wasn't much art Tiffany made in school that wasn't, but Lani liked it because it left nothing about her body hidden, no surprises in the softness and plump curves; begrudgingly, she admitted it was a good choice for her profile. 

 **SB:** _Don't take this the wrong way, but you didn't. Look how I expected, I mean._

 **LLC:**   _Oh?_

 **SB:**   _I didn't expect you to be_

 **SB:** _Dammit I don't know how to say it._

Lani smiled in the darkness of her room, understanding settling in. 

 **LLC:** _You didn't expect me to be brown._

 **SB:** _Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong. You're beautiful, and unexpected or no, you've got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I don't know why I built you in my head as Caucasian._

 **LLC:** _That's because you're racist, SB._

 **SB:** _I AM ABSOLUTELY NOT RACIST_

 **SB:** _CRAP HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP DOING THIS_

Laughing, Lani reassured him that it was fine, showed him how to turn off the capslock. She turned the tables on him and asked if he was white, if that was why, and he admitted it probably was. They traded questions; he asked her where she was from, ethnically speaking, and she asked him what color his eyes were. 

 **LLC:** _I don't know. I mean, my mother was from Hawaii but I don't know much about her. She died a year after I was born. Dad doesn't know if she has family, she never talked about anyone apparently. He's like you, American-mutt, Caucasian, big white dude, dirty blonde hair, gray eyes._

 **SB:** _My eyes are blue._

 **SB:** I'm _sorry about your mom._

 **LLC:** _Thanks. I wish I knew more about her. What about your parents? What are they like?_

 **SB:** _My folks aren't around anymore. They died a long time ago. But they were good, supportive. I miss them, it is what it is though._

Lani frowned a little.

 **LLC:** _Are you lonely, SB? I mean, I know how the job can be. Dad and my uncles, their work was their world, the people they fought alongside, their family. Sometimes more family than their own flesh._

 **LLC:** _I mean, I just don't_

She bit her lip, trying to find the words, thankful he was letting her type without interjecting, his icon still. 

 **LLC:** _Life is hard enough as it is, this world we live in is insane, insaner than it was, super heroes falling out of the sky, holes ripped in the Universe. But it'd be unbearable without family, the kind we make and the kind we're born to, or one or the other. I just don't like the idea of you risking your life, of anyone risking their life, and having no one to stand with them._

 **LLC:** _Sounds like a Hallmark card, sorry. But I mean it; don't do any of that shit alone, own the family you've got. It's important._

His icon remained still. Lani stared at it for a few more moments, worrying her bottom lip, fidgeting in bed.  _Shit, did I go too far...?_

Then-

 **SB:** _You're right, it is important. You sound like you know what you're talking about. Sorry, I was just_

 **SB:** _I was looking at your picture again._

She laughed, tucking back in against her pillow, smiling at the screen.

 **LLC:** _Don't over do it; I told you, you're not getting another one for a bit. You don't want to get sick of it._

 **SB:** _It's not like a photograph, not going to wear it out any time soon._

 **LLC:** _Wear it out? Oh my, SB, what would you do with it that it would wear out?_

 **SB:** _That_

 **SB:** _That is not_

 **LLC:**   _On that note! I'm going to get some sleep. It's late._

 **SB:**   _Hey wait_

 **LLC:**   _Good night, SB._

 **SB:** _No wait, serious question._

 **LLC:**   _Alright, just one. And then seriously, its 3am, sugar._

 **SB:** _Do you always sleep like that?_

 **LLC:**   _Like what?_

 **SB:**   _All I see is blankets and curls and a smile. Is that typical?_

 **LLC:** _No._

 **SB:**   _Really?_

 **LLC:**   _Sometimes I forget to take off my glasses._

 **SB:**   _..._

 **LLC:**   _Good night, SB. Don't wear out that picture._

 **SB:**   _Good night, Lani. I'll be sure not to._

* * *

"I sent him a picture last night. I have regrets."

Tiffany flailed out a hand over their breakfast table, decked out with the usual Saturday late-morning goodness of bacon and eggs and pancakes and kimchi. "Lemme see!"

"What! No, it's awful!"

The Korean woman gaped at Lani. "Leilani Jones, you  _slut!_ "

"IT ISN'T THAT KIND OF PICTURE!"

"Well then I'm sure it's decent, let me see!"

With a sigh, Lani passed over her phone, letting Tiffany gape at the photo she'd sent SB. "I thought I was all... soft and sexy looking," Lani grumbled. "But look at those eye wrinkles, I'm pretty sure I've got drool on my chin, and my face is all splotchy-"

"There's nipple too."

Lani choked on her coffee, eyes going wide with horror as she snatched her phone back. Only-

"Gods dammit, Tiff, don't  _do that_."

Snickering, her roommate beamed at her over her coffee cup. "You're look perfect, I don't know what you're worried about."

"I look all ... crusty and tired and  _old_."

"Girl, you're no spring chicken, that's for sure, but you're gorgeous there. I think you may have sent a spike of  _like_ straight to his vulnerable, squishy heart."

Lani felt her cheeks tingle. "I... surely it's just... I mean. Good lighting, that's what the majority of that picture is-"

"-are you  _blushing_?"

* * *

 **LLC:** Holes.

 **SB:** _That definitely sounds like an R-rated movie. Or worse._

 **LLC:**   _It's_ _-not-_ ,  _it's really not. It's based off this book I loved as a teenager, it's a really good story. It's about a boy who has bad luck his whole life and ... no, you really need to watch it. Please?_

 **SB:** _I said you get to pick, I stand by my word._ Holes _it is._

 **SB:**   _So how do we do this?_

 **LLC:**   _Are you free now?_

* * *

 **SB:** _This poor kid._

 **LLC:** _It's all because of his no good pig-stealing great great grandfather._

 **SB:**   _What does that_

 **SB:** _I see you've seen this movie a few times._

 **SB:**   _Holy wow is that Eartha Kitt? I like her._

 **LLC:** _Yeah, it took me by surprise the first time I saw this and she was there._

 **SB:** _Wow. That guy dodged a bullet, and that girl is regretting her choice._

 **LLC:** _I hate that guy -so much-._

 **SB:** _Who? The asshole who's daddy owns the lake?_

 **LLC:** _YES._

 **SB:**   _What a bunch of little jerks. No wonder they're in detention camp._

 **LLC:** _Are you crying?_

 **SB:** _Maybe._

Lani covered her mouth with her hand, even as Kissin' Kate Barlow succumbed to poison on the screen.

 **LLC:** _Aw, honey._

 **SB:** _They just deserved so much better. That's all._

 

* * *

SB warned her that for a few days, he was going to be out of touch. Another work-related trip. They were getting easier to accept, like an old habit as comfortable as a warm sweater. 

 **SB:** _I really appreciate how understanding you are about that. I know it's not easy._

 **LLC:** _Dude. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed it or done it myself. It's kind of the price you pay for caring about military folk. It's okay. I mean, alright, it's not always easy, but what are my options? Throw a tantrum and complain about how unfair it is? Nah. I'm a big girl, SB. I can handle it._

 **SB:** _Yeah you are._

 **LLC:** _I am what?_

 **SB:** _A big girl._

 **LLC:** _I'm shocked this is the first time you've brought that up. We've been talking what, three weeks?_

 **SB:**   _Ah. Well uh. I thought that it was pretty clear with the specifics of the site, and all that. Plus ... well. I try to be a gentlemen. It gets hard sometimes._

 **LLC:** _Oh does it?_

 **SB:** _Okay that was not what I meant at all_

 **SB:** _But yes, that too._

* * *

 

It was easy enough to put her head back into work. Thanksgiving break had come and gone, Christmas shopping was in full force and with it, Lani took on a few evening classes to help herself stay busy.

Nothing too strenuous, the basics of watercolor, color theory. Mostly hobbyists, a few teenagers in high school looking to get a leg up for class, even a few retired folks. While Lani was pretty certain she was crabby and bitchy ninety percent of the time, the Prestons insisted she was doing quite well. 

"Everyone always has something nice to say about you," Savannah insisted, helping Lani clean up afterwards. "You don't sugar coat anything but you're pretty supportive. The beginners especially like how accessible you make it seem."

Lani blushed a little, shrugged at she rinsed out paintbrushes in the classroom sink. "This... art, it's just what I do," she murmurs. "And it should be accessible. I mean, it's all right there, I just try to get everyone to see."

"That takes patience. It's only ten people per class, but still. You're a good teacher."

Walking home that night, Lani started to wonder; the seed was planted. Maybe since she couldn't  _do_ , as far as being a successful artist, maybe she should teach? 

At her desk that night, unwinding from the day, she continued work on a series of illustrations for a children's book she'd been struggling with for almost a year. She enjoyed it, the tale revolving around a fox and a cat and their antics, the watercolor-and-ink illustrations appealing and subtle, and as she worked she admitted that maybe she could do both; teach and create. It wasn't a world-shattering epiphany, it certainly wouldn't impact the same way a fireman did, or SB's line of work, or a politician or a super hero, but it made her happy. So, maybe...

Curled up in bed later that night, Lani still mulled over the idea, barely paying attention to the movie that she had playing ( _Prometheus,_ this time). She was on day three of no-SB, and she didn't expect that to change for another four; it was helpful to adjust her expectations thusly, she wouldn't start to worry until well after she probably should have. She missed him, and a small part of her worried about where he was or what he was doing, but over all, she was alright. She was. 

 _I'm really alright_ , she repeated to herself and for the most part? It was the truth. 

Still, when the movie was over and she was drawing the blankets up to her shoulders, the light off and her eyes flicking to her phone on the other side of the bed, she may have said a prayer or two to anyone that might listen:

_Just stay safe, SB._

* * *

Her phone was ringing. 

It was still dark and it was a little cold; the telltale hiss of snow on the roof gave reason as to why even as she groped in the dark for the offending device. It spasmed in her hand, the chime of the call annoyingly shrill. She was cursing while she struggled, her ire rousing her a little as she pressed the thing to her ear.

"Hello?" she mumbled sleepily, her brow furrowed, her eyes shut. 

"... Dammit. I did it again, didn't I?" 

Male voice. Quiet. Chagrined. 

Lani's eyes blinked in the dark, she pulled the phone from her ear to stare at the number she didn't know, disbelieving as she brought it back.

"SB?" she stammered, shifting to sit up, unconsciously drawing the blanket up her chest.

"Heh. Yeah. Hi." It was a deep voice, rough with exhaustion. A very, very nice voice.

"How did-" Oh right. She'd given him her number before he'd gone radio-silent. "Mmmffuck, what time is it?" She twisted in her spot to find her clock, squinting really hard, struggling to see the number. "-Christ, man, it's 2:30 in the morning, did you just get in?" Tremors of excitement added to the cold, a shock of adrenaline at the unexpected pleasure of his actual voice. 

"Yeah, just got home. I'm completely beat but ... I ah. I wanted to call you."

She smiled and tucked herself down into the blankets, drawing them up over her shoulders as she settled back into the warmth. "Not gonna lie, that's pretty awesome to hear," she murmured. "I'm glad you're safe, though." Sleep was coming back, and with it, the complete lack of filter. "I missed you."

There was a long sigh on the other end, followed by a sound that could only be described as 'smiling'. "I missed you too, Lani."

"'m still pretty sleepy, though, don't hold it against me if I pass out on you."

He chuckled, a rich rolling sound that made her smile again. "As long as you don't blame me if I do the same."

"You in bed?"

"Yeah. Pretty much came home, locked the door, peeled off clothes and fell into bed. I'm usually far more tidy about that kind of thing but I just ... couldn't." She heard shifting, the sound of a body settling under blankets, most likely. "Then I realized I really wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep, but again, I didn't look at the time."

"SB?"

"Yeah, Lani?"

"You can call me any time. Even if I'm sleeping. Okay?"

"...Okay. Thank you."

"Told you; it's alright if it's you. Just as long as you don't mind the swearing. Sometimes that happens."

He chuckled again. "I don't mind it, I don't do it much myself, though."

Lani couldn't help it; she giggled. "That's pretty adorable in a soldier, SB."

"...Steve."

Her lips curled in a smile, pleasure warming her through to her toes. She sighed, soft and pleased. "Steve," she murmured. 

He hummed in satisfaction, the sound almost indecent. "I like the sound of that, your voice saying my name."

 _God dammit_ , she thought, that warmth burning into something more sharp, settling unbidden between her thighs. "Yeah?" she breathed, rolling to her back. "Just like this?" She shivered, dropped the pitch of her voice just as her free hand strayed along her own hips. "Steve..." The last syllable caught; suggestive, enough so that it made  _her_ blush to hear it.

Silence on the other side; a rush of air revealed he'd been holding his breath. 

"God, woman, have mercy and don't do that," he groaned softly. "I'm .... I've got no defenses when you say it like that."

Another giggle from her, Lani opting for said mercy as she drew her hand away from herself. Another time, maybe, but yeah.  _Too soon_. "I won't apologize. I'm a salacious hedonist and I'm pretty out of it; someone woke me up."

His laugh was relieved, something in him relaxing just before he yawned. "...hmm, yeah, not a nice someone. Permissions aside, I'm sorry about that."

She yawned too. "I like it when you do it," she murmured in reassurance. "If I can't answer, I won't, but ... yeah. I like it when you wake me up. It's ..." She struggled, trying to think of the right word, but Steve saved her.

"Intimate?" he offered quietly.

Another soft sigh from Lani, curling back on to her side, the phone tucked between her pillow and her ear. "Yeah. Intimate. Like ... a hand on my shoulder in the dark, wordless. Safe." Sleep was surging up, she mumbled something apologetic. "Dunno if that makes sense."

"No, it does. I ... yeah. It does. Conjures up a few images, though. Nice ones, just ... yeah." The sound of a bed creaking as Steve, too, shifted. "It's snowing," he said after a few moments of quiet.

"Mm-hmm," she agreed. "Hisses against the roof." Her eyes were closed now. "'s why it's so cold."

"You're cold?" he asked softly.

"A little," she mumbled. "Warming up, though. Have like ... four comforters on me."

"No heater?" He sounded concerned. 

"Old house, brownstone that's about a hundred years old. Shit for insulation. Forgot to plug in the standing heater before bed. 'm okay, though. Chubby ladies are good at that." She chuckled as she tugged the blankets up further, until only her hair strayed above the edge. She really was getting warmer, and sleepier. "... be nicer if you were here."

He went quiet. Lani started to doze.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, it would be."

"Gotta sleep naked though."

He choked, laughing, the sound bright and sudden, enough to rouse  a grin from Lani. "You really are a tease," he chuckled. 

Her grin colored her words, even as her eyes remained shut. "Why, Steve. Teasing suggests I won't follow through. Promise; I'm gonna follow through, if you let me."

* * *

 Lani woke up the next day to her phone buzzing under her cheek and a puddle of drool. She rolled to her back and grumbled, wiping at her face as she rubbed her phone on her blanket at peered at the screen, only to blush furiously when she remembered what had happened.

He'd called her. SB- ...no,  _Steve_ , had called her, while the snow came down in the wee hours, they'd talked and flirted and... and...

"Oh my god," she groaned. "I fell asleep."

There were a few texts in the dating app, time-stamped ... three hours later?

 **SB:** _Don't apologize, I know you're thinking about it. You fell asleep, you told me not to hold it against you. To be honest, I dozed off too a little later. You didn't snore, I could barely even hear you breathing._

 **SB:** _And I told you, I'm pretty new to all of this. Hearing you breathing, it was more of that thing, that intimacy. It was soothing to listen. I may have taken advantage and slept for a bit. After a mission, sometimes it's hard to relax enough to go back to sleep after that initial crash. Listening to you helped me get back to sleep._

 **SB:** _I'm realizing now, after reading that, that it could potentially be creepy._

 **SB:** _When you wake up, put me out of my misery? Was it creepy?_

Lani smiled, sitting up in the weak light of the morning, the sun peering through her curtains, a pearl in the wintry, overcast sky. 

 **LLC:** _No, Steve. It wasn't creepy. Can you call me later today? I liked talking to you, I'd like to do it when I'm not half awake._

* * *

"We gotta stop meeting like this."

Lani laughed, wireless earpiece freshly installed, testing it on a phone call from Steve. "What, after midnight on the phone? In bed?"

"Doesn't that annoy you?" She'd just talked him into getting a wireless headset or similar, but he still didn't sound convinced. "I mean, I don't know about you, but we just can't seem to talk during the day, text or otherwise."

"Eh, not really. My days are usually busy, and we've got shit luck for overlapping days off. Do you get those? Days off?"

There was a rustle of fabric, a muffled, 'hang on' before his voice came back in full.

"What was that?" Lani asked. "Fall into your blankets?"

"Ha, no. I was pulling off my shirt, and ... ugh, I gotta do some laundry soon."

She cleared her throat. "So you're saying you're topless?" she teased, trying not to grin, failing, her heartbeat picking up. 

Steve's laugh was sudden and awkward. "Ah, yeah, just... let me look for a sleep shirt-"

"-don't," she said, only to laugh herself at her abrupt protest. "Ahem. I mean. You don't have to."

"Oh?" He was smiling again. She could hear it.

"Yeah," she said, feeling a little breathless as she climbed into bed. 

It was quiet on the other end. She could hear him moving. 

"Are you ... getting ready for bed? Like ... how you usually do?"

Sheepish, she giggled. "No, it's cold. Here-" The camera was easy enough to pull up, snapping a quick picture and sending it to him. 

"-what? Oh, hang on-" he said, and then- "Oh. I ... wow." His voice was a little quieter; she suspected he'd drawn back to look at what she'd send him. "That's ... nice. I like the lace at the sleeves."

"It's mostly cotton, snug and comfortable." The nightgown went to the elbows but left her shoulders bare, edged along the neckline in cotton lace, pretty and practical, stopping at mid-thigh, which, thanks to angles, he could see in the picture. Despite that, it was still pretty decent. "Too cold to go naked."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Confused for a moment, she looked at the picture she took, then promptly flushed. "Oh, god, I didn't see that when I sent it-"

"-please, for the love of all that's good, don't apologize for ... being cold in that picture."

Laughing, Lani sighed and snuggled down into her blankets. She was still giggling when she set the phone on her bed. "I don't mean to tease, I swear. And ... I don't do the nude-picture thing."

"That sounds like a good idea, given how open the internet seems to be. I hear about hacking stories and information theft all the time. Actually, it's a really great idea, not sending naked pictures of yourself. I'd rather you not share that with anyone else."

Lani smirked, waiting for his brain to catch up with what he'd just said.

"...I mean, not that you're  _mine_ or anyone's and really, what you do with your body is your own business and if you wanted to- ... it's none of my business, I just meant ... dammit, Lani, are you there?"

Pulling her hand from her mouth, laughter in her voice, she said, "I'm sorry, I can't help it, you do that thing and it's just so fucking adorable-"

They talked about small things, teased each other. Flirting was slow with Steve, Lani noticed. She didn't mind that at all, they'd been talking for over a month now, through text and now in the last few days over the phone. Most of it was getting to know each other, sharing stories, a bit of salacious teasing tucked in here and there. As the evening wore on, though, and sleep tickled the edges of her awareness, Lani grew bolder.

"I don't really want to send you nudes anyway," she mumbled after a yawn, tucking herself deeper into her blankets. She'd remembered the space hater this time thanks to Steve's tactful reminder. The room was still cold but it wasn't as bad as the night the snow storm hit. "It's not my style, for one, and for another-" She paused to stretch, grunting softly before relaxing back into her mattress. "-I'd rather do that kind of thing in person."

His voice was soft, tense at the edges. "Showing me in person?"

Lani shivered, heat prickling across her skin; something about how he said it: anxious, eager. Wanting. She exhaled slowly, her breath a touch tremulous. She didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry. Did I go too far...?" he offered, a little worried, rueful-sounding. 

"No, oh no," she murmured. "Just took me by surprise is all. You're a gentleman, Steve, but when you ... say things like that, like you want me, it ah ... it kind of takes my breath away." Her cheeks grew warm; she chuckled at herself. "For all that we met on a dating app, we're rather slow about this, aren't we?"

"Maybe," he chuckled. "But I don't really see that as a bad thing. Do you?"

"No," she said quietly, smiling. "It's nice to hear, though."

"What? Which?"

"That you want me."

It was his turn to exhale, long and slow. "Do you doubt it?"

She licked her lips, pleasant anxiety curling through her veins like a tickle of sensation. "I want to see it," she murmured. "I think I do, hints, but-"

"I want you, Lani."

Her breath caught. She was trembling. "Leilani," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

She huffed, blushing. "My full name. It's Leilani."

He went quiet.

Then, a husky whisper, "Leilani."

She couldn't  _quite_ catch the moan before it left her lips, pressing them together a half second too late.

"...what was that?"

"Nothing, nothing, just... god. That was hot."

"What was hot, Leilani?" His voice was pitched low. Lani swore.

"You're doing it on purpose now," she grumbled, squirming further into her blankets. 

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Only if you're not prepared for the response."

"What kind of response is that?"

"Steve, I'm an inch away from touching myself over the stupidly sexy way you say my name."

He coughed on the other side, startled. Lani grinned.

"See?" she teased. "The real reason to go hands-free."

His spluttered, startled laughter had her joining in in no time, covering her mouth with her hand even though Tiffany was in the basement, coding her heart out. 

"Wow, I ... yeah, I don't know what to say to that," he remarked, sighing. 

"Why do you need to say anything?"

"It's ... ridiculously sexy, I just ... this is still all pretty new to me."

"What is? The concept of phone sex?"

"Christ, you just put it out there, don't you?"

"Ah, you've got me when it's late, I'm not  _tired_ yet but I'm close enough that the filter between my brain and my mouth is off for the night. I guarantee you, tomorrow? I'll stare at your chat window and write an apology and delete it five times over before I decide whether or not to hit 'send'."

"So you aren't normally this bold?"

"No. But ... I suspect if I spoke to you in the middle of the day ..."

"Yeah?"

"I'd devolve into it eventually."

She really liked how he laughed, especially when it was unfettered, like she'd genuinely surprised him. 

"So," he began a little later, when they'd both calmed back down. "How does one go about doing that?"

"Doing what, Steve?" she asked sweetly, grinning. 

"Argh. You know. The ... phone sex thing."

"You've really never done it before?"

"You're mocking me, I can feel it."

"Actually, I'm not, promise. Just kind of surprised, I suppose." She shifted in her bed, moving to her back and silently giving praise for hands-free technology. She cleared her throat, her hands drawing down her soft belly, her wide hips. "It's ... a combination of audio feedback and dirty talk, really." Explaining it clinically seemed to be the best angle. "Like, talking about what we wish we could do, or would do, with that person, responding to it if it arouses, talking about it more if you want."

"Oh."

She fiddled with the edge of her nightgown under the blankets, wondering if-

His voice was rougher when he spoke, just as quiet as before, as he said, "Does telling you that I want to run my mouth along the curve of your shoulder to your neck, count?"

Lani shivered, skin prickling right where he threatened to lay his lips, like he was there and on the verge of doing just that. Her response was breathless, control a little rattled: "Y-yes, definitely."

"I look at that first picture a lot, you know. That's my favorite place to start, when I think about being around you."

She stayed quiet, listening, eyes widening in the darkness of her bedroom.

"You're so soft. I see it, and I imagine how soft you'd be when I kiss your skin, hold your face in my hands and brush your lips with my thumb. You have the most generous lips I've ever seen, Leilani-"

She moaned again, unable to keep it back-

"-and I can't wait to kiss them, taste them, maybe even nip at them-"

Her hand dropped to press between thighs that were spreading, feeling herself respond to his imagery.  _-and it's just a description of a kiss...!_

"-and pull at the blanket on your chest and kissing down, exploring your skin. You're so beautiful, Lani, the color of fresh cookie dough. I keep thinking about things I shouldn't, like what your soap smells like on your skin, how your hair would feel in my hands..." He paused, inhaling sharply. Lani wondered what he was doing over there, in his bed, craving the knowledge like something potent. "...what you look like when you blush, what the color of your skin means for the rest of you, the intimate parts of you."

"-oh my god," she whimpered. The hand between her thighs pressed harder. She was on the verge of panting.

"Are your nipples dark?" he whispered hotly into the phone, and Lani felt dizzy with how fast he was catching on to this. "How about, lower? I want to know, I want to learn, Lani, I want to see..."

She moaned softly, feeling her spine curl above the bed. She'd done this before, ten, twenty times with half as many people, but this one, this man, he was ...  _How is he doing this to me?_ she thought, lost in a kind of blissful panic.  Fingers slipped between hot skin, finding herself feverish and slick. She whined.

"Lani? Are you alright? What is it?" Concern in his voice, even if he seemed a little breathless himself.

"... do you have your hands on yourself, Steve?" she whispered into the quiet of her bedroom. 

He grunted, wordless, silent for a moment. There was a rustle of fabric, and then a tight, soft, aching moan filtering through her earpiece. Beneath her fingers, the subtle slickness grew and Lani felt her hips buck minutely against the bed. 

"I do now," he mumbled. "How about you? Are you-"

"'m so hot, Steve," she whimpered. Over his groan, she continued: "Wet, wanting you here, your hands on me-"

"God, yeah, me too, doll, me too-"

"Nipples are darker, a little pink," she whispered, taking over where he left off. "Not pink, in other places. Red, ruby, darker."

He swore. She'd never heard him swear before; she took it as a compliment, her chuckle breathless.

"Lani, Lani ... tell me about your body. Your silhouette picture, your hips... god, your hips look like I could grab on, lose myself in them-"

"Fuck, Steve, yes-"

"-I'd take you slow, Lani-"

Startled, she keened, her fingers sliding inside of her, crooked up as she rocked against her pillows.

"-Christ, woman, what are you doing-"

"-don't stop, Steve, tell me... tell me more, take me how?"

His voice grew a little louder, like he was pressing his mouth closer to the receiver, a growl edging his words.

"Slow, I said, slow and deep. I want you to feel me, I want to feel how deep I can go. You're beautiful, Lani, big hips, full, gorgeous ass; you look like you can take all of me, Lani. Can you? Can you take all of me?"

Her hand worked between her legs, kicking off her blankets. "Fuck, Steve, yes-"

"-make you come for me, on me, going slow like that, even, draw you along like a ship to shore, I'd watch you fall apart, feel you crumble around me-"

She whined; fingers pressed deeper, harder. "Fuck-" She was close. She was already close. Her other hand fisted in the blankets, her thighs starting to shake.

"Lani, Leilani, you sound like you could come right now. Can you? Can you come from right now, doll? I wanna hear you baby, I wanna hear you come for me."

A knee lifted, her heel planted in the bed. "Steve-" she cried out.

"Come, Leilani." He was panting. She could hear him moving in the background. "So I can fuck you hard, as hard as I want while you break around my cock, god, Lani, please, come-"

She broke with a shout, jerking against her hand, a flood of moisture around her knuckles as she clenched around her fingers. Her hips lifted off the bed, rolled up to buck, hard, into an erection that wasn't there, coming and yet unsatisfied, wanting more, wanting  _him._ She heard him grunt, a rapid series of rough groans before she heard him, too, find his release.

A snarl wrapped around her name, needy, hungry, drawing out her own orgasm until she lay on her bed trembling, covered in sweat, fingers sticky, panting and whimpering in the wake of that sudden, heady rush. 

He was breathing hard too, so sharp and loud in her headset, she could almost feel his breath on her skin. The very idea had her arching against the bed again, an aftershock burning through her; she moaned.

His answering groan was gritty. "Don't.... don't do that, woman, I'll start up again."

Her breathless laugh was met with one of his own. "Copy that," she murmured, sighing as the last of the ripples faded away, leaving euphoric bliss in its wake. "Wow, Steve. Are you sure you haven't done that before?"

He huffed, a smile in his words. "That a compliment, ma'am?"

"My thighs are still shaking. So, yes."

There was no awkwardness in the aftermath, the progression of things natural, comfortable at the pace the pair had set. Lani curled up on her side as they talked about nothing; her only regret was that he wasn't there touching her and drawing her close, as he said he wanted to do as he, too, felt sleep pull on him. 

"Gotta say," he murmured. "See the appeal of the hands-free headpiece. And ... everything else."

Lani's laugh was sleepy but genuine. "That really is  _not_ why I suggested it."

"Liar."

"It isn't!"

"Uh-huh."

"Dammit, Steve. Go to sleep."

"I will in a minute, don't worry."

She smiled into the phone. His breathing was even; he sounded relaxed. 

"...but not yet," he added. 

And he didn't sleep, at least she didn't think so; she passed out first. She suspected that had been his plan all along, so he could sleep to the sound of her breathing. 

* * *

 "What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked a day later.

Lani readjusted the earpiece before going back to washing dishes. "Ah, Thursday? Nothing. I only teach Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

"You're teaching? What do you teach?" Steve was a little out of breath; he was running this evening, their phone call starting earlier than normal for it. While the sound of him breathless was distracting, she rather liked the extra time to talk.

"It's nothing official," she explained, scrubbing at a pot. "Not like a school. I teach at the shop I work in, watercolor and color theory."

"Art classes?"

"Yeah, I figured since I can't make anything I'm happy with, maybe I can teach other people to." She winced. "Argh, that sounded like self-pity. It's not. It's frustration."

He chuckled; in the background, she could hear feet on pavement, a rapid gait that seemed at odds with how easy he was breathing. "I don't know much about art, but I go by the Smithsonian whenever I'm in D.C. I get a little lost in all the exhibitions, I forget sometimes to look at their art collection."

"You should!" Lani exclaimed. "I went on a field trip in high school, ages ago, and I still remember how amazing their collection was." She sighs, a little longing edging her words. "I wouldn't mind going again."

"Maybe we can go together."

Her cheeks tingled, Lani felt herself grin as she ducked her head. "Yeah? I'd like that."

Moments of silence and the sound of running filled her ears for a bit as she finished up her chore, washing her hands and toweling them off.

"So. About tomorrow night?" she said, pausing to dig into the fridge for something to drink.

"What? Oh, right! Ah... well, i-it turns out, I'm going to be home for a few days, starting tomorrow. I was wondering if it'd be too presumptuous to ask you out." A beat. "On a date. A real date." Another pause. "In person."

Lani was silent, but only because she was bouncing in place, beaming with excitement. Settling back on her heels with some effort, she managed to clear her throat overly casual-like. 

"I would love that."

An expulsion of breath; he'd been holding it again. Lani giggled.

"Awesome! I mean... well, I know this place. It's kind of like a speakeasy? That's a-"

"Steve."

"Right, no, right, I forgot. Anyway, I'll send you the address. It's a little fancy, you can dress up if you want."

"Will you be 'dressing up'?"

"...do you want me to?"

Lani worried at her bottom lip, imagining the man on the other end, with blue eyes and a voice like warm butter, a man who ran with ease and lived the life of a soldier. 

 _Oh man. Slapping a suit on_ that-...?

"Yes. Yes, absolutely."

He laughed, the sound both relieved and shy.

"Yeah. Alright. I'll do it if you do it."

"What's your rank?"

"Captain, ma'am."

Lani laughed. "It's like instinct, isn't it?"

Chagrined, Steve chuckled. "A bit, yeah."

"Well then, Captain. I'll be there with garters on. Wear a hat."

A muffled grunt that sounded suspiciously like a groan. "Yeah. I'll send you the address."

* * *

For about the hundredth time, Lani agonized over what she saw in the mirror. 

She was shorter than most women, five-foot-four, with a very thick hourglass figure, thick thighs, wide hips, modest in the chest by comparison. She couldn't decide whether or not she should let her hair loose or pin it up, putting up her glasses in favor of contacts. Her make-up was subtle, her full-lips a warm hue not too far from her natural coloring. Her mother's pearls dangled from her ears, peeking through her loose tresses as she fussed over the flowers she wanted to put in her hair. 

Traditionally, flowers were put over the left if your heart was unavailable, and Lani blushed at that; the struggle was, she liked Steve. Did that mean she was unavailable to anyone else? Or should she put the flowers over her right, demonstrating her openness to him?

 _I am thinking way too god-damn much about this_ , she lamented, finally opting to put flowers over both ears.  _Ok. That doesn't look too bad._

It did mean leaving her hair down was the best option. 

Thick curls ran down to her waist, framing her face and spilling down her back, the blue-with-white-kind-of-polka-dots dress embracing her figure. Based on 40s dance dresses, with a flared skirt and a sweetheart neckline, she was pretty happy with how it looked, sweeping over her hips to just above her knees, flaring out in a wealth of fabric that swirled when she walked. Her shoes, mary-jane pumps in gleaming patent leather, sported four inch heels that clicked satisfyingly when she walked, her stockings held in place with garters, black lace and confidence-evoking; it was Lani's opinion that thick thighs looked amazing in stockings, and hers were no exception. 

With all that, though, she still agonized, twisting this way and that, pulling off her necklace to leave her throat bare, fussing over her eye-makeup, reaching for her coat on her bed.

"Holy shit, woman. You look like sex on a stick," Tiffany remarked from Lani's doorway. In these shoes, Lani was taller than Tiffany when normally the pair were pretty evenly matched. "Does he know he doesn't deserve you?"

Lani blushed, laughing, leaning down to kiss Tiffany's temple. "Oh, don't fuss, this is the good smudge proof stuff," she teased as Tiffany rubbed furiously at her brow. "Didn't so much as mark you, promise." Which was the whole point; if kissing happened, well-

"You got the address?" Tiffany asked. "Cab just pulled up."

"Shit, yeah I do," Lani murmured, pulling on her coat and tucking up the collar, wallet and phone shoved in her pocket. At the door to their home, she lingered their, looking from the cab to Tiffany, worrying at her bottom lip. "Tiff-"

"You look fucking amazing, woman. If he doesn't fall, hook-line-sinker? It wasn't meant to be."

Relief fluttered through Lani; she took a deep, slow breath and gave her best friend a bright smile. "Thanks, Tiff."

"Knock him dead, girlfriend."

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my dream Captain America is a chubby chaser. I literally woke up snickering. He was unapologetic and gentlemanly about it (in public) and as a chubby woman that's been in several relationships with similar people, it was still a struggle to portray them as folks with a preference rather than a kink or a fetish. I hope I don't offend anybody with this bit of silliness. I know, I stress over ridiculous things. 
> 
> Please continue to enjoy!

Steve Rogers has  _always_ loved bigger women. 

It started when he was ... well, the little guy, doing his best to serve his country, collecting bottle caps between attempts to enlist. There was just something about them, the soft bodies, the warm smiles. The average woman, there certainly wasn't anything wrong with them either but ... he doesn't know where it began specifically. 

His mother was small, thin, his father lean as well. He supposed it was hereditary, built like he was, and it always kind of puzzled him that Bucky was the same when they were kids. Scrawny, fast, always into trouble. But then puberty hit, Bucky shot up and bulked out, and Steve ... didn't. 

Steve was always a gentleman. Or, he tried to be, discreet and polite with matters of intimacy that Bucky was definitely  _not,_ even as teenagers. The first time he kissed a girl, Bucky didn't know about it for over a month, because Steve thought it was rude to talk about such things. When he finally got his hands on a woman without her clothes on, Bucky still didn't know for a while after, and he definitely never knew precisely when Steve popped his cherry. It positively vexed him. 

"I tell you  _everything_!"

"Well yeah. That's what you do," laughed Steve. "I just don't. Nothing personal. I just don't 'kiss and tell'."

Bucky had laughed, punched Steve lightly in the shoulder; Steve was still the little guy then, staggering with a yelp. "Ever the gentleman."

Rubbing his arm, Steve smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Gotta have something going for me."

"Ah, don't be modest, kid. You got plenty going for you."

Plump dames. Soft lips. The kind of hips you could squeeze and grip on to. When he was smaller, he'd sink into their embraces and revel in the softness, the plush flesh, the warmth. He wondered for a long time if that was biggest draw, the delicious source of heat where he was always packing on extra layers even in late spring. In the end, he supposed if some men could obsess over legs, or green eyes, or redheads, or hips, or breasts, or dark skin, or short women, etc., it wasn't terrible of him to find voluptuous, chubby women the epitome of beauty. It took all kinds though, right?

When the experiment happened and he became 'Captain America', things ... changed. That's an understatement of course, but the most immediate change beyond the physical ones to his person was how women (and men) looked at him. The women he found attractive, he was often too shy to approach as former-Steve. After the change, however, he didn't have to be the kind of man that would wait to be invited or approached. He could just as often be the kind that would meet a woman's gaze and approach  _her._  

Honestly? It was  _fun._

Bucky always gave him hell for it.

"Don't bother, fellas," he would tell the other Commandos, when over drinks at a tavern somewhere in the war-torn French country-side they attempted to push a few of the local (and very, very willing) serving girls at Steve, and Steve would just laugh and politely turned down all invitations. "These dames, lovely as they are, aren't the Cap's type. No," he added, downing half his mug, belching after. "We'll have better luck in Germany, if you know what I mean."

All eyes on the Captain; Steve felt his cheeks tingle, coughing into his fist. Bucky didn't elaborate and Steve distracted everyone with a couple free rounds, but he knew eventually they'd figure it out. 

Not that he was ashamed. Never. Ever. 

"It takes all kinds," one of the Commandos would whisper at him later, a knowing look in his eyes, pointing out a much more bountifully shaped woman across the establishment, wearing a pretty yellow dress and a delighted smile. Steve, staring and meeting a pair of eager, bright eyes, had to agree. 

* * *

He really didn't know who sent him that website. 

He suspected it was Bucky, given that he thought his best friend was the only one that openly knew about Steve's preference. It was more than possible; Bucky had been in the waking world longer and more intensely, wherever he was Steve wouldn't put it past him to send him something like this.

Bruce had been there when Steve's terminal had gone off and he'd received the email, the scientist thought it was a joke, but then took a second to marvel at the code and the intensity of the algorithm, not to mention the vigorous background checks. Out of anyone on the team, Steve knew Banner could be discrete. It didn't take much to encourage the man to keep the situation to himself. 

And then when he met Lani ... Poor Bruce was the one who got all the questions. 

"Should I send her a picture?

"When is it appropriate to tell her my real name?

" _Should_ I tell her my real name?

"When should I ask her out?

"Is it too soon?

"Should I just keep talking?

"Bruce, help me out here."

"Steve, I don't think I'm the one you should be coming to about relationship advice."

 

It generally had more to do with what was acceptable behavior in this day and age, what was expected, maybe even anticipated. Even then, Bruce encouraged him to follow his instincts. However dubious he was about it Steve ran with the advice; he didn't have much choice.

Steve only asked the Hulk advice exactly once. 

(" _SMASH._ ")

* * *

 

And that was how he was sitting here in a not-too-fancy nightclub, full of neo-swing music and lively dancing.

It didn't feel like a flashback, or even an echo; it was more like an evolution of what was loved and what was now, something Steve felt he could relate to on some level. The place made him feel less like a relic, and more like something reborn, grounding him in the present while reminding him of where he came from. He'd been here a few times since waking up and ... well, he liked the place. 

Old habits die hard. He was sitting in a back corner booth where he could see the whole room and the entrance and have a solid wall behind him, his suit and hat completely at home in this setting. The music was up but not too loud, he had a drink in front of him and his phone on the table.

In his hands. Then fiddled between his fingers. Then on the table again and switched on, then off again; he was nervous. 

 _I jump out of planes about once a week and dodge bullets and lasers and cars and any number of things even more often than that,_ he mused, his lips quirking.  _A date with a beautiful girl has me twitching like an anxious teenager._

To be fair, it had been ages since he'd been on a date and not a hook-up; as he'd told Natasha, he was old, not dead. 

Leilani though, she was different. 

Yeah. She was something else.

Intelligent and sarcastic, she had a voice like a running river, wrapping around syllables and carrying through into words and sentences and conversations that made it a balm to talk to her. Her chuckles like solace, the sound of her breathing like peace. Then, just recently, when he got carried away in that phone call, he got to hear her breathing hike, her soft moans and sighs, it was like a switch went off in his head; Lani wasn't just admired by Steve for everything she presented as, she was also very, very desired, openly and without restraint Steve would admit he couldn't stop thinking about her. 

Right about the time he was lost in thought over the woman he'd finally get to meet in person, his phone went off, and when he went to check it, excited, several things happened at once:

First, he thumbed on his screen only to see he had a text from Lani, but then a notice popped up that he accidentally hit 'yes' on, and his phone informed him it would now shut down to update the OS and to 'stand by, this could take some time'. 

"Noooooooo," he groaned under his breath, trying to turn it off, turn it on again, but that only worked on the screen and even then it said not to completely power it off. So then he didn't know whether Lani was lost or in trouble, or canceling. 

 "Hi."

Or here. 

At his table.

Biting her bottom lip. 

 _That looks like something I should bite too_ , came unbidden across his mind, just as he slid out of the booth and moved to stand.

"Lani," he breathed.

Her eyes were very dark, but he knew that. Still it was something altogether different to witness her in the flesh, the nuances in her expression as she looked him over, wandering up from the center of his chest to his eyes, flicking upwards to his hat.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she chuckled, her voice instantly recognizable by every inch of him, tensing in anticipation for  _what exactly?_ "My driver was this very talkative red-head who gave me a discount if I answered a bunch of survey questions. They were really, really personal, but hey, free fare is free fare, right?" She frowned a little, her smile more bemused. "Even if it was mostly about what I think of meta-humans or how I view my relationship with my father. You know, it was rather all over the place-"

A red-headed cab driver interrogating Steven's date?  _Dammit, Natasha, how did you find out about this?_ There went his hopes that this would be a completely private event, he was certain there were at least another set of eyes in the club, then, maybe two keeping an eye on him and his date. It meant everyone knew. Or they would know. _I wonder if I can work a deal like Barton, keep this kind of thing off the books.._.

Some of his feelings must have come through in his face, Lani frowned a little, confused.

"Something wrong?" She took a small step back and gestured to herself. "Not appropriate?" Her full lips quirked in a half smile, her habit of falling into humor when she was nervous something he could recognize now after their many conversations. 

"No!" he said, smiling, pushing the Avengers and SHIELD and everything else out of his head with relative ease as he took her in. "No, you look-"

Pearls dangled in her ears, standing out against golden skin and a thick mass of dark curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue dress had white polka-dots and fit her the way God intended; snug around the chest and middle, flaring around her hips, showcasing her body in a way that made him very, very aware of how long it'd been since he'd been with ... well, anyone, let alone someone he wanted to date. Stockings. Heels. Thick, shapely legs, skirt stopping midway to her knees. 

He didn't know when his hands had moved to cup her face, only that they were, that he was, her hands around his wrists and her figure suddenly so close to him. She smelled like summer roses, coffee, and sex, her cheeks soft against his palms, her hair even softer under his fingertips. 

"-cat got your tongue, soldier?" she murmured, and he couldn't stop looking at her mouth. 

Soft. Like kissing a cloud of smooth bliss, her mouth slanted to his as he sipped from her lips like he'd wanted to for weeks. She shivered and pressed against him, his teeth stroking her bottom lip and drawing it in to nibble on. He felt her twitch, a small jump through her skin just before she leaned into him, the reverberation of a moan felt more than heard in the busy nightclub. His hand slipped into her hair when, with gentle coaxing, her lips parted and he tasted her, felt her hot, soft tongue against her own and groaned into her mouth. 

Time went on. He wasn't sure how much had passed, only that it was a different song and she was swaying on her feet when he finally came up for air, staring down at her, disbelieving; she was a dream. She had to be. 

She cleared her throat, leaning into him, her arms around his neck.

"Well then," she mumbled, only to grin, the apples of her cheeks going red, visible even in the subtle lighting. "The chemistry's real, isn't it?"

He laughed, relief flooding him. "Yeah, suppose it is. Ah, sorry... have a seat?" he invited, moving to let her sit across from him. 

She slid into the booth he'd been occupying, effectively putting her in the corner, her expression cheeky. It put Steve between her and everything (and everyone) else in the room.

Yeah. He rather liked that. 

* * *

The ice was effectively broken; they were talking like they always had, but this time they could touch. At first Steve kept his hands to himself, ludicrous after the kiss they'd shared but, what are you gonna do? Her leg brushed his as she twisted a little to look at him while they spoke, and now and then he felt her foot brush his shin when she'd shift or cross her legs. While he was close to her in the beginning, he made no move touch her.

But then her fingers brushed his knuckles as he held his glass, ran along the edge of his thumb during a lull in their conversation. His skin tingled when she did that, drew in like his flesh was too tight, hyper-focused on every brush of flesh to flesh. It was hard to speak when she did that, even harder still when she'd bite her lip and lift her gaze to his.

She had the most beautiful eyes. 

Dark, the darkest he'd seen, and he knew they were probably brown in proper light, maybe even whisky-hued in the sun, but they were thickly lashed, framed in sable brows and laugh wrinkles. Her whole face was framed by that gorgeous mess of curls and pale flowers; she was a goddess, a woman of exotic pleasures and feminine softness. 

"You're staring again; gonna start thinking you have a problem with your pants or something, Steve," she teased, the fingertip tracing his knuckles pausing, her expression as playful as her tone. 

_And a woman of sass._

"I can't help it," he replied, sincere even as he smiled. "You're breath-taking. And you're  _here._ It's hard to take in quickly."

Her head tilted and her cheeks went rosy, something else he found quite charming. "You're not so bad yourself, you know. Not that looks are everything; they aren't. But." Her touch left him and he felt bereft, her fist under her chin and her elbow propped on the table. She grinned at him. "You are definitely my cup of tea, Captain."

He tensed for a moment, wondering if she knew who he was. When nothing else came and she ordered from the server that wandered by a few seconds later, Steve polished off his drink and offered her his hand as soon as they were alone again. If this was the only chance he had, he was going to take it. 

"Leilani." He loved the way she seemed to vibrate every time he said her name. "Dance with me."

She took his hand but laughed, letting him help her out and up. "It's been ages since I did any kind of swing dance-" she warned. He smirked. 

"I'll lead, sweetheart. That alright?" He squeezed her fingers gently; her grin faded by the warmth in her eyes went up a few degrees. "Do you trust me?" he asked when they were on the dance floor, the music picking up, drawing her to him.

Her grin was back. She put her hand on his shoulder, ready, trusting. "I do."

"Good. Believe it or not, I really only know the basics. Totally conned you." He waggled his eyebrows. 

Cackling, she swatted his shoulder. "Well, then, let's see what kind of mess we make of this, hmm?"

They really weren't that bad together, as far as dancing went. 

Nothing fancy, the basic steps carried them through. He threw her out and drew her in, spun her a few times and laughed with her when she did it with a swirl of skirts, and then  _she_ almost laughed at  _him_ when he near tripped over himself to see the tops of lace stockings and the hint of garter straps-

- _holy hell, this woman-_

-though she didn't know why. He saved himself with the only complicated dance move he was brave enough to execute: a double spin, her, him, gripping her and whirling her about with her clutched to his body before dipping her. The music was timed perfectly; everyone applauded themselves and Steve ... all he could see was Lani.

Out of breath, panting, delighted Lani, in his arms and half underneath him, her arms slipping around his neck. Heat singed through his nerves. 

He straightened, clearing his throat, returning her laughter and bright smile as they made it back to their table. She bounced into her seat and slid over in the booth, fanning herself and reaching for one of the cloth napkins they'd left on their table, dabbing at her temples and her throat. 

"I can't remember the last time I danced like that!" she exclaimed, flushed, excited, satisfied. "Thank you, that was fun." Her head craned as she sought out the attention of a server. "I think I need a glass of water, goodness."

He slid in next to her, closer than before, his side pressing into her. To his delight, she pressed back. "You alright?" he chuckled. 

She went back to fanning herself, beaming. "So long as you don't mind me sweating a bit, I'm fine!" she laughed. "Swear, I've got sweat dripping down my thighs."

All of him pulled tight; Lani, thankfully, managed to get the attention she needed to order a tall glass of water. Steve did the same, all of his focus on the woman sitting next to him the moment they were alone again. 

His eyes fell to his napkin on the table. The cloth was heavy and absorbent, if small. He picked it up and looked down at her, dropping his other hand to her leg under the table. He felt her tense and tremble, her attention suddenly and completely on him. He held up the napkin in offering, his smile small, a gentle smirk with so much heat behind it. 

"May I?" he murmured near her ear, close enough for her to hear it beneath the music. 

Another tremor ran through her. She nodded once, curiosity and excitement in her gaze. God, this woman was going to kill him. 

He ran the cloth over the top of her furthest knee. They were in public, he reminded himself. In public but in a booth, in the corner of a darkened club and literally no one was looking at them, he was sure. He was certain. He hoped. At the very least, they  _probably_ couldn't see what they were doing.

_Or maybe I just don't care if they can?_

Thick cloth between their skin, his hand and her thigh, a thigh that was parting as he stroked the napkin up along the inside. He felt her sigh, the breath against his jaw, her eyes on his as he watched her face. 

"Still alright?" he whispered to her. She nodded again, eyes fluttering, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. He pressed his hand up higher, felt her legs spread just a little more. His head dipped to keep her gaze, watching her. 

He cupped between her legs, dropping the cloth to the floor. 

Soft cotton made humid by arousal greeted his fingertips. He caught the tender edge of a soft whine as she quivered against him. 

 _"Christ,_ " he whispered against her lips. She had a hand on the back of his neck, panting softly, gentle, rapid puffs of air against his skin. It was like he was possessed, he couldn't stop touching her, and yet he was poised and ready to do just that, the moment she wanted to stop or someone came too close, he was ready. 

But right now, he was trailing gentle fingers up the line of her intimate flesh, over the cotton of her panties, feeling heat and moisture through fabric. His focus pulled tight, honed in on this woman that trembled under his touch. He caught the edge of another whimper, tight and hungry when his fingertip pressed to the top of the seam he traced. Her hips tilted up whenever he strayed there. On the next upward stroke, he pressed in deeper and traced a small circle.

He leaned in the moment her mouth fell open, swallowing the strangled sound before it went further than breath, kissing her deeply, his free hand in her hair, fisting in her curls to keep her close. His fingertip continued to trace circles around the shape of her clit, swollen beneath the cloth of her panties; slow movements, around, and around, and around, marveling at how she shook beneath and against him, trapped in the corner of the booth, body growing slick.

He wondered what anyone would see if they looked back to the booth. A couple kissing, lost in each other? His hand down past the table, assumed to be on her knee?

Was it more suggestive?

Something in him burned with these questions, even as he broke the kiss to stroke the tip of his nose along her own. He was breathing hard, excited, so aroused he hurt. Lani wasn't much better, panting, staring up at him beneath a furrowed brow.

"Still alright?" he breathed.

 

The look she gave him; her eyes narrowed and her lips twitched, caught somewhere between amused and irritated. 

 

* * *

 

_Am I alright?_

Lani opted for honesty. 

"I'm shaking like a leaf and you can probably drown a toddler in my panties," she hissed playfully at him. "I'm more than 'alright'. But," she added, raising her voice just a touch to maintain his attention while he shook with quiet laughter, "if you keep going, don't hold it against me if I come right here in this booth, Captain."

The look on his face whenever she addressed him by rank, it gave him an expression of severity, hardened focused that bordered on obsessed; it's was erotic to Lani, she felt all her nerve endings pull to a point, anchored somewhere in him. 

 _That shouldn't be my response, that_ look _should be_ terrifying. 

And yet it wasn't, the heat between her thighs and under his gently stroking fingertips told her it wasn't, every passing brush making her shiver. She dropped her hand to wrap around the back of his, shaking her head minutely when he paused. She wanted to feel the movements, wanted to cradle this reality. 

She was in a booth at a nightclub, dressed to the nines, pressed against an intelligent, witty, genuine, playful, attractive man who had his hand between her legs, and he was looking at her like she was the best thing in his whole world. 

It was a pretty awesome reality. 

Somehow, he found more space to occupy, scooting closer, the hand in her hair slipping forward to cup her cheek. One of her flowers fell into her lap; she ignored it, feeling her spine curl backwards as he pressed that fingertip against her clit, just under it, and rolling his touch from side to side. 

One of her legs kicked, the table squawked against the floor as it moved a few inches and she pressed her face into his neck as she laughed weakly into the lapel of his jacket. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she felt him nuzzle her temple, his voice amused. 

"Probably not the best place to do this?" 

"True," she chuckled back, breathless, nipping at his jaw just under his ear, feeling him rumble and press against her side. "But I can't say I want you to stop."

His touch firmed, increased in pressure; Lani quivered and bit back a swear word. 

"Steve," she groaned softly. "I'm dead serious. You're going to make me come if you keep doing that."

She felt his mouth against her ear, an inhale through his nose as he took in the scent of her hair. He didn't say anything, though.

He was positively wordless as his hand shifted against her, pushed aside her panties, and one thick, calloused finger slid completely inside of her, knuckles pressing against her labia. 

Her knees shifted open, unable to breathe, an eternity in the heartbeat before he crooked his finger, drew back and pushed back in.

* * *

She was coming. 

He could feel it, the flutter of velvet muscles squeezing around his touch, her hips tense and trembling. Surprise ripped through him and he turned his head to nose at her temple, feeling her shake, sensing the cry that was coming; he should have believed her.

His mouth sealed over her's, swallowing the aching sound that threatened to burst, plundering her mouth with his tongue, stroking along her own, muffling her noises to a soft, aching series of moans. All the while, below, his hand barely moved, pressed into her, snug against intimate curls and fever-hot, soft ( _-so very soft...!)_ flesh, feeling her tremors and her shaking, how her thighs were locked down to the knee and her hips twitched beneath the surface, aching to buck and yet completely unable to do so. Immobilized by pleasure, drowning in it; he did that to her. It was a heady realization, one that had him so hard he  _hurt._

He was thankful for so many things in that moment; thankful that the club was dark, that this woman responded to him in every way he could possibly want, that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, that she was everything he thought she was, that he could affect her this way. That they were alone in these moments. 

"Captain."

_Well. Mostly alone._

Lani's hands around his neck and shoulders tensed; she was just coming down from that blissful high, the tremors in her body unwinding to quivering softness, dark eyes heavy-lidded, her features pliant, trembling lips slack as she struggled to breathe. She was looking at him like there was nothing else, and God, did he want it to stay that way for the rest of the night. Take her home, kiss her for hours, see what else she had for him under that dress. 

But.

"Ahem. I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, but-"

"I heard you," Steve muttered, looking over his shoulder at the SHIELD agent that stood there, every inch the professional. Beyond the agent was the familiar figure of Natasha, striding through the club in jeans and a sweater and leather jacket, chagrined, regret etched into her features. This wasn't a directive he could push off, then; it had to be serious. "Dammit."

"Work calling?" the source of his desires murmured softly, nestled against his shoulder and the back of the booth. He turned to look at Lani, her soft vulnerability, those eyes that held a complicated collection of emotions that he was certain his own gaze reflected. "Don't imagine you swearing for anything less."

Without missing a beat, he ran his hand over her skirt, laying it in place as if he'd only been stroking her knee or the top of her thigh, shifting to run his hand through her hair, the other still cupping her cheek. He brushed just under her eye with his thumb, leaned down to kiss her again. He felt her hum beneath the affection, felt her body arch just a touch into him; his body pressed back, unable to help himself. She was the one that broke the kiss, nuzzling him, regret on her face. 

That same regret echoed in Natasha's voice. "Steve, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said. He drew Lani to him but also moved to step out of the booth, bringing her with him. "Can you give us a minute?"

"We've got a car waiting to take you both, and drop her off."

He smirked at the red-head as he discretely helped his date with her balance, feeling with a little pride how she trembled through to her knees. "You driving?"

Natasha flashed him a grin and moved to lead the pair towards the back of the establishment. 

"Hey," Lani squinted after Natasha's figure. "Isn't that my Uber driver-?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME THERE WILL BE MORE I SWEAR.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed to get this done while I had the chance, but I may revisit these two in the future. 
> 
> I put it to you guys: should I?

Truth be told, Lani was still a bit dazed. 

She was in the back of a large black SUV, nestled up against her date while the red-haired Uber driver from earlier in the night drove them towards her house. This amazing, fantastic night was coming to an end far earlier than she expected and in a far less expected manner. 

"How do you know where I live?" she asked of the red-head, moving to lean forward. Steve tugged her back, his request wordless; she gave in, leaning into his shoulder. She moved to look at him; he looked ... mournful.

"Hey, what's with the face?" she murmured, frowning, running the back of her finger fingers along one rough cheek. "Are... you're coming back, right?"

His mouth twitched. "Just try and stop me," he chuckled, sounding almost surprised. "I figured you'd be put off. This wasn't ... I mean, I had-"

"- _plans_ ," Lani mumbled, leaning into him, kissing him softly. The arms he had around her tightened. 

"Yeah," was his equally soft reply. "Plans." His hands spread along her back, mapping up the sides of her spine; she sighed and pressed into him, shivering to feel him muffle a groan against her throat. 

"Good," she whispered. "Because I want to see you again." His hands slid down the back of her hips, arms going around her into a tighter embrace; the power of it did things to her, he was so careful when he touched her and yet he seemed to know, just  _know_ , she wouldn't break. "Will you call me when you get back?"

He cupped her face and drew her mouth back to his in wordless answer, teething at her bottom lip while his other hand dug into her ass beneath her skirts. Fuck.  _I'd climb into his lap right now-_

"We're here, guys. Knock it off, you're steaming up the windows."

Lani smothered against his mouth and broke off the kiss, feeling Steve smile as his arms pulled her even closer, just before he undid her seat-belt. 

Too soon, they were on the side-walk in front of her brownstone, stealing a few more kisses while Natasha cleared her throat noisily from the driver's seat of the SUV. Steve held her face in his hands after, looking at her for a few more stolen moments.

"I swear it. I'll call you as soon as I can," he said quietly.

In her bones, Lani knew he meant it; it was probably the only reason she let him go. 

As Steve settled into the passenger seat and buckled himself in, he didn't stop looking at her. Just before they drove off, Lani distinctly heard Natasha drawl,

"So, is  _that_ what you meant by being 'too busy' to date?"

* * *

Of course, it was only after she was in the shower that she remembered.

_Captain Rogers._

Lani wasn't stupid. Or, she didn't think she was. By the time she clambered out of her bathroom, soaked and panicked, grabbing at her phone and pulling up pictures of  _Steve Rogers_ did she wonder. 

"Holy fuck." First image. Blue eyes. That jaw. "Holy  _fuck."_

Louder than she intended, because Tiffany was hollering up something and stalking up the stairs, pushing the door open to reveal Lani, towel hanging half off her, gaping at her phone like a moron. Tiffany was talking; Lani wasn't paying attention, not until her friend pried the phone from her hands to see what she'd been looking at.

"Lani.  _Lani._ What is it? Why are you-"

"That's who you matched me with. I mean the site. I mean that's him, Tiff, that's  _him."_

Tiffany looked dubious, looking back at the phone. "Who? He looks like him? I mean, awesome, but-"

Lani grabbed Tiffany's slender shoulders and shook her, losing her towel in the process and not giving a shit. " _Tiffany._ I mean,  _that's who was there tonight._ This is who I've been talking to?"

Tiffany blinked owlishly at her bestie, understanding slowly being to crest. 

"Captain America."

"Yes."

"You're dating-"

"-Captain _God-Damn_ America."

* * *

 

The memories of her dad being gone helped a lot the three, long, agonizing days Steve didn't call her. Her aunt reminding her that it was okay to worry, but that he'd be back. He always came back, she said, and she'd been right. 

_"Stay busy, Lani," Aunt Bea would tell her. "Stay busy, think positive, fretting yourself into stomach aches and tears just locks you up. Trust me, it's no good to anyone. Especially you. Get stuff done. Go see a movie, read a book. Stay busy. Okay?" Lani remembered the physical effort it took to get her there, but eventually?_

It had been a while since she'd had to use that bit of mental effort, but it was like riding a bike. 

She still worried. She tried not to, but right before bed, when the room was dark and the snow would hiss across the glass of her windows and the roof of her house, she would worry, and wonder, and hope he was alright wherever he was. Just like with her Dad. 

And Aunt Bea was right; Dad always came home.

As an adult, Lani recognized how  _lucky_ she was with this, but still. Dad always came home. 

"Steve will too," she muttered to herself for the hundredth time that day, restocking the supplies at the art store. It was already dark out, winter being what it was, the snow had stalled after a day of falling, the grate was closed but the shutters were still up. She'd finally stopped glancing out to the lit streets, telling herself she was just checking to see if it was snowing again. 

"Because I was," she grumbled to herself, pushing a few bottles of gesso into lining up properly, before going to the shelf above it and adjusting canned, black gesso into doing the same. 

With a sigh, she drew out her phone ( _just to check the time,_ she thought furiously), saw that there were no calls, and shoved it back into the back pocket of her jeans. She had another hour to kill. Looking about, she noticed their sale on canvases had been pretty successful; they were just about out of the large ones, and the smaller ones were all gone.  _Good, more busy work._

Making things hard on herself was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but the cursing helped; over burdened with a half dozen canvases of various size, Lani wrestled them from storage to the front room. She only dropped one in the process, but stubbed her foot no less than four times. Thankfully, the drop happened a few feet from where they were stocked, nothing ruined, and she dropped the rest to sort and stack. 

She'd just finished arranging them from largest to smallest when a familiar voice spoke up behind her,

"I thought artists were supposed to be unorganized and crazy."

And then Steve was rushing over, all apologies, Lani half-collapsed on a display of carefully arranged tubes of oil paint, the items scattered across the floor, the woman clutching her chest where her heart really felt like it was going to explode out of her rib cage.

"Don't... fucking ... do that...  _again_ ...!" she gasped, punctuating her words with some very serious smacks to his unyielding biceps. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket over a sweater, jeans, boots; super casual compared to the suit she last saw him in, she noted somewhere in the less-frazzled parts of her brain. "Gods my  _heart_ ....! You scared me, Steve!" And then she blinked. "Steve. Steve? How did you get in?" Her eyes went wide. "Did you break the grate? Please don't tell me-"

"Your back door was unlocked. You really should be more careful." He peered around at the mess they made, wincing. "I ah. Yeah. I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't ... I mean I saw it was closed but you were still here-" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "I should have called. I would have called, but I kind of ... lost my phone. Down the side of a mountain. In a truck. That was on fire. Which is the truth, I mean, just-"

Lani, who was at this point trying very hard not to laugh at the absurdity of it all, held up a hand and shook her head. "Stop. Just ... stop. I get it." Without thinking, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, before dropping her eyes to the scattered paint. "Door was unlocked? That must have been the new guy. I'll have to tell him to be more careful. As for the mess, help me pick it up and take me out to dinner, we'll call it even?"

"Di- ...? Yeah? Yeah! Even, yes, let's do that-"

In record time, everything was picked up but it took a bit longer to rearrange everything, Lani insisted all the tubes had to be organized by color.

"I don't think I ever realized there was so much color in a rainbow," he mused as he handed her paint to put up from the collection he held in his arms. "I mean. The... more than the usual red-orange-yellow-green-blue-purple, anyway."

"Color theory is serious business," she remarked, smirking at him a little. "You have your primary colors, your secondary colors, tertiary, and so on. And then there's complimentary colors, warm colors, cool colors. It all depends on what your palette calls for, what you need. It's actually the most popular class I teach here."

"Kids?"

"Oh no," Lani laughed. "Adults. I don't teach kids."

"You don't like kids?" he asked, surprised.

She snorted. "Kids are the best at being artists, real artists," she insisted. "They create because they want to. I think we'd all be better off if we could go back to that. Technique is important but letting yourself grow with the inspiration that's around you is more important. Technique can always happen later. No, if I taught kids," she said, as she finished a row of crimson oil paint and moved to the vermilion, "I'd just set out the art supplies and show them how to safely use it, then let them go to town. And then just ... watch, maybe take some notes."

A little bit later, everything was back the way it was supposed to be. At the back exit behind the stockroom, Steve helped her with her coat, and while she buttoned herself up he picked up her scarf and drew it around her neck, carefully pulling her hair from under it, smiling as she peered up at him with an amused expression. He undid her top three buttons, tucked in the ends of the scarf, then rebuttoned her. Her arms slid around his middle and he ran a hand through her hair. 

Lani shivered, her smile fading, eyes closing a moment to savor the intimate pull and the tightening of his embrace. "Steve-" she breathed, but then he was kissing her. 

It wasn't the molten thing they'd experienced at the speak-easy, but it was ...  _more._ His mouth was slow in its motions, sipping carefully, drawing in her bottom lip, pulling her to her toes with the purposeful gesture. She was breathing hard and flushed when he drew back the hair's breadth he took, gazing at her like she was such a surprise, an unexpected piece of good news. Her lids felt heavy, all of her felt heavy, heavy in the way being pleasantly drunk made you feel. Her hands, gloves still in her coat pocket, skimmed over the leather of his jacket, pressing as they wandered up his back and then down again. 

"Sorry," he murmured, tucking an errant strand behind her ear, calloused fingertips stroking the curve of her cheek. "I saw you through the window and I everything just pulled at me to get in here. I didn't think about tapping on the window," he kissed her brow, "or calling from the booth down the block. I didn't mean to sneak up on you or embarrass you. I just ... you looked so serious, and so good, and I hadn't seen you or heard your voice-"

"-no, no it's good," she chuckled up at him, watching her smile infect him into a gentle grin of his own. "I mean, please don't do it again, and the back door shouldn't have been unlocked, but I mean if there's one person in the world allowed to sneak up on me-"

She felt him tense, but she kept going:

"-it'd be guy I'm dating, wouldn't it?"

The breath he let out in a rush feathered across her skin, she caught the scent of coffee and mint, the leather of his coat, his body curling closer to her as his arms tightened around her. He was looking at her again, studying her features, eyes open and fixed on hers even as he leaned down to kiss her again. 

"What is it?" she murmured against his lips, drawing back just a little, worried. "Did I say something wrong?" 

 _Oh gods,_ she thought.  _Don't let him be one of those people, the kind that don't want labels, or have commitment issues, or-_

"No! No, I-" he started to say, his hands molding her upper back, gripping the back of her shoulders. He loosed a laugh that was more air than sound, his expression a little sheepish. "I thought you were going to say something else."

Lani let herself relax a fraction, and then a fraction more. "So ... if it wasn't 'boyfriend', what did you expect?"

* * *

 

He actually didn't answer her, not until the doors were locked on the store and the grate pulled down and secured. She was pulling on her knitted gloves, the kinds with no ends so her fingertips could feel,  watching him watch her, waiting for a response even as he reached for her hand as soon as she was done. 

"It's late," he remarked. The street was quiet, the snow was falling. Lani looked up, the cloudy nighttime sky orange with light pollution and yet? somehow still so pretty. "And I promised you dinner-"

"-I'm not that hungry," she replied quickly. His playful expression shifted, serious and concerned. She continued just as quickly, "and my place isn't far from here. No on else is home."

 _Bless this boy_ , she thought, watching his features shift from concern to confusion, to understanding, desire, and an innocent kind of enthusiasm. She giggled as he tugged at her in the snowfall, insistent now that they 'get out of the cold ASAP'. She laughed, then. "Alright, alright-"

Tiffany had been out of town all week, she wasn't due back for another four days, so the house was empty. She was explaining all this and trying to get the door unlocked with a very warm, handsy man curled around her back. He was pulling at the scarf he'd so carefully wound about her neck, kissing the skin just below her ear, breathing into it, making her shiver from head to toe, her shaking hands working at the keys and the lock while she swore at him and he chastised her for her bad language. Once inside, however, she yanked him in after her and slammed the door. He reached behind him to lock it before stalking after her. 

She was running up the stairs, unbuttoning her coat and peeling it off. He was helping, prying it from her limbs and tossing it on the chair in her room, his eyes on her, never leaving, working on his own jacket and tossing it there with hers. He pulled his sweater over his head, revealing bare skin dusted with hair, then he was reaching for her. Lani was frozen as she took him in, all of him, before his face filled her vision and he was kissing her again, his hands in her hair. 

She doesn't remember how he got her stripped down to the camisole she wore beneath the button-down shirt under her coat, only that suddenly his hands are scorching the skin of her soft belly, dimpling the flesh as he dug them into her, relishing the ample softness, the plush curves, groaning against her mouth. He's pulling that garment off over her head a second later, leaving her in her jeans and her bra.

"Christ, Lani-" he mumbles, leaning back to hover over her where she's laying on the bed-

_-wait how did I get on the...?_

-looking down at her, from her mouth to her throat, stroking his hand down her sternum, the roundness of her stomach and then back up to cup her breast through the soft cotton of her bra. His mouth dropped to the exposed curve of her breast, the top edge, skimming the fabric with his teeth and nipping the skin there. She jerked under him, arching to press her jean-clad hips to his only to have him press down into her, pinning her to her bed. He bit her again, a little harder, just below her clavicle. Her hands slid into his hair, the woman groaning into his temple as his lips pressed to the pulse at her throat. 

"You're perfect," he mumbles just under her ear. "Lani. Lani, Lani you're perfect, sweetheart, absolutely, completely..." His voice trailed off, drawing the straps of her bra down her arms, reaching behind her to unhook the thing and pull it from her body. 

* * *

 

The lights in Lani's bedroom were still off, the glow of the snow carried on moonlight, but Steve could only ask for more light, silently, as his eyes roved over her. Soft curves, bountiful and heavy, flesh that jostled and swayed when she moved under him and against the bed. He felt his mouth go dry, hovering over her. Dusky nipples sought his attention, attention he was only too happy to give, leaning down to lap over one while her fingers dug into the backs of his shoulders, her sounds breathy and delighted, arching up into his attentions.

Shirtless, he pressed into her, felt her soft, silky curves press against the harder surface of his chest, reveling in the differences even as he sought to press harder. Heat raced up the back of his spine, sizzled through his nerves and he bit her, digging his teeth in, punishing her for the audacity of being so wonderful, so  _perfect._

She keened and bucked up under him when he drew his tongue over the sting of his bite in apology, her cheeks flushed when he looked up at her over the curve of her tit. His hands were working on her jeans, unbutton, unzipping, draw open the garment and working it down her wide hips, her thick thighs. He gave up his morsel to stand, to yank at denim and boots, socks, until all she wore were her panties. On the bed, she looked like a goddess, a goddess in offering, willing and plush, warm golden brown skin, black curls spilling everywhere. And he could smell her arousal, he could see it slick just along the upper inside of her thighs, thighs that pressed together to ease the ache between them, and Steve felt his mouth water, licking his lips as he drew his hands up those plump legs, caught the sides of her panties in his fingers, and drew them down her legs. She held her breath when he drew the wadded cotton to his jeans, stuffing it in a back pocket before gripping that back of her left knee, tugging her closer.

"Those are mine now," he murmured, watching her blush, and then grin, and then cover her face with her hands.

"Steve, you're  _killing_ me-" she mumbled, only to arch and groan when his free hand dropped between her legs.

Intimate curls on fever hot, plush outer-lips, he thumbed her open with the sudden need to expose her, to see for himself how wet she was even though he could see and smell her. Her whimper was as telling, the blush scoring her from sternum to temple as she stared up at him, playful smile melting away. She was slick and dark here, red even in the shadowed bedroom, her little clit peeping at the top of her cleft. The rough pad of his thumb darted out to tuck just under it, to stroke above the opening that clenched to just below the apex of her tiny organ. 

Her hips rocked and he could see she was gritting her teeth, breasts bouncing just a little as her breathing grew harsh. Fascinated, he watched her face as he repeated the motion, upward, his thumb slick, his fingers keeping her spread. Her features took on an edge of anguish, lips falling open, cheeks flushed; he'd found a  _spot_. He continued and leaned over her, his other arm braced against the bed, dropping his head to kiss her gently on his next few passes. Her breath hiked in time, she shivered, and when he went faster she cried out so softly, like she was in pain but clearly wasn't thighs dropping open, hips lifting in wordless invitation. 

He wanted to see her come again. 

His thumb rolled, slick now, up and down, faster, and when she started to shake he pressed two fingers into her as deep as he could get them, curled his fingers, and drew them firmly outward. 

Nails dug into his shoulders, points of pain both welcome and unexpected, Steve grunting as he kept his eyes on her, watching her come apart as his arm began to work, thrusting, fucking her. Her breasts bounced, a flush across her caramel skin radiating up her chest to her cheeks, her face contorted with pleasure, head thrown back, aching noises to throbbing satisfaction spilling from those generous lips. He was so hard just watching her, wondering if he could come, just like this, watching her fall apart. 

Around his fingers she fluttered and squeezed, slick and hot and he moaned to imagine what that would feel like, to feel that and those soft thighs around his hips, thighs that were trembling and spreading wider. While she shook with her release, his hand still working her throat it in firm, slowing thrusts, he kissed her again, deeper, tasting her soft whimpers, the sound of his name on her lips trapped between them. 

* * *

 

Lani needed Steve inside her, and instead the man was torturing her. 

Her head was still spinning from the way he played her body, effortless and almost perfect, her sanity rubbed raw with pleasure, staring at him poised between her thighs. One of her knees was caught and pushed back to spread her further while he looked down at her, his other hand on his cock and stroking the hot, swollen head of him up and down the cleft of her body. He was so close, he was right there, lapping at her moisture with the tip of his erection. 

It felt really good but that only added to the frustration. The shape of his head caught just under her clit on the upward pass, a sweet spot that made her twitch every time he brushed it, but as the stroking continued he was pressing harder, the texture of him smooth, as smooth as she was, hot, and yeah.  _Yeah, that feels really, really good-_

But she wanted all of him.

"Steve," she tried not to whimper, licking at her lips as she struggled to find the brain cells to speak. She suspected this was going to be a fight, he really seemed to be enjoying what he was doing to her. "Steve, please-"

His hand gripped her hip and his pelvis took a tilt, and with the sudden burn of penetration, he was inside of her. 

Breath stolen, Lani arched her back, eyes snapping wide as she choked on a cry, hands mutely grappling for something, anything, eventually finding purchase on his elbow as he further braced against her knee and spread her wider, her other gripping his thigh as it slid sweat-slick behind her own. Nails dug in again; he didn't seem to mind that, which was good because Lani was done thinking. 

He sat in her, pressed deep, shoulders moving with his deep breaths as he bore down, meeting her eyes. Shock and pleasure, relief, need so sharp it could cut, all of these things in a face she was coming to know in a way the rest of the world wouldn't. He drew back and  _his_ gaze fluttered, only to grow determined when he rocked back in and Lani whimpered. The hand on her hip shifted to plant on the bed by her head, before he shifted again and came down on his elbow, his hand tangling in her hair, tilting her face up to kiss her when he delivered an especially hard thrust. Lani cried out and bit his lip. Steve moaned and bit back. 

After that, the world melted into a blur of pleasure and sound, the texture of hot skin, slick and wet, breaching through muscle and flesh that squeezed in welcome. It was obscene and profound, earth-shattering and mind-numbing. The pace picked up, Steve groaning into her neck that she felt so good, too good, and-

_-God, Leilani, I wanna feel you come around me, baby-doll, give it to me, I got you, I've got you-_

_-_ as his hips moved harder, faster, a piston of flesh aided by the tilt in her hips, Lani lifting them to feel him grinding against the spot inside of her, to lathe against her aching clit. It all felt amazing, she didn't want it to stop,  _resisted_ her orgasm because it was all so fucking good. 

But Steve was relentless, spreading his knees on her bed and push forward until  _he_ was tilting her hips up, the angle sharp, driving into her while she wailed underneath him, clawed at his arms. His mouth caught hers, he cursed, groaned her name, begging her, and Lani broke. 

Her legs came around him and she shouted, trying to stop him from moving as her release slammed into her because everything was so sensitive but no, no, the beautiful jerk had to keep moving, drawing it out, savoring it as much as he rode her threw it. She sobbed and twisted, locking her legs around him even as impossibly, he continued to thrust. But not all of it was her.

He bore down on her, both of his hands in her hair, letting her drop from her arch to press her into the bed in serious of erratic, hard, deep thrusts before he loosed a long, aching moan into her temple, his breath hot and quick against her skin, the man shaking, pushing into her like he wanted to melt into her. Her body squeezed around him, feeling him spill inside her, witnessing his orgasm almost, _almost_ enough to push her into unraveling again.  Lani wound her arms around his shoulders, her soft thighs cradling him, breathing him in through his own release even as she still quaked from hers. 

* * *

 

She was close to dozing when he nuzzled her ear, their limbs still tangled.

"Is... it weird that I want to say 'thank you', after all that?" he asked, his voice rough with blissful exhaustion, his blue eyes dark, his face relaxed into a soft smile. 

She ran a hand through his hair, his boyish looks for once shining through, reminding her that he was her age and yet so much older in any other ways. A thought ran through her head-

_I wonder what else he's seen?_

-but it was just as quickly put away. Steve was looking at her with a more serious expression, rubbing her cheek with his knuckles, worried. 

"Hey. Are you alright? Did I-?"

The somber cloud broke and she was smiling, something bright in her chest that hadn't been there in a long, long time. She nosed in and kissed him, tasting his chuckle as her arms wound about his neck and she pushed them both to their sides, her leg slung over his hip. A moan, soft and tender, brushed against his chin when he stroked the length of her thigh with one slow, hot hand. 

"Mm. I want more of you," he murmured. Lani scoffed. "Yeah? Gonna have to give me a minute because my legs aren't hardly working," she moaned. "C'mon, Cap, go easy on a girl... I thought you  _liked_ me-...!"

Steve laughed, the sound a pleasure in itself, one that had her giggling to join in. His hands ran up and down her back in the quiet that followed, his blue eyes still smiling down at her. He cleared his throat after a moment, his touch straying to toy with her long dark hair.

"So ... I figure you know... Well. You know."

She played innocent, making her eyes wide, batting them up at him. "Know what? That the man  _I'm dating_ skipped dinner to push me into bed?"

He tried to look stricken; it almost worked. "That is not fair, I tried, you were the one that took advantage."

She sat up, thwapping his laughing face with a pillow. "Steve Rogers, that is  _not_ what happened, you  _take that back."_

He sat up and dislodged her from their tangle without so much as a grunt of effort, pillow falling away as he lifted her into his lap, drawing her back as he moved to lean against her headboard. She shivered but not from the cold, though it was enough to have him reaching for her blankets and drawing her comforter up around her, cocooning them in softness and warmth. One hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking her jaw. Lani frowned. 

"You seem nervous about it," she murmured. "Us together." Her heart squeezed.  _This is where he says we have to stay a secret. This is where he tells me we can't be together._

"You know who I am." Lani pinched his nipple; he yelped, smacked her rump, making her squeal. He glowered at her until she went quiet, waiting for her to stop squirming.

"You know who I am," he began again, "what I do. I didn't mean to be dishonest about that in the beginning. I mean I did, just not for any-"

Something started to unclench inside of her as she began to understand. She kissed him softly to quiet him. "Steve." She kissed him again, a soft press of lips. "I get it."

His arms tightened around her. He just nodded. "It might not be easy, being with me. Being mine. But if you want to give it a shot, Leilani, I'd ... I'd like that."

Chuckling, Lani shifted in his lap, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah?" Something better than heat warmed through her chest, she kissed him again. "I think I'd like that too. Though, you didn't have to ravage me before you asked."

"No, but I definitely wanted to give you incentive to keep me around." As Lani laughed, delighted, Steve growled, arms felxing around her. "Which reminds me-"

Blue eyes gleamed as he lifted her up, making the woman squawk in alarm as he slid down the bed beneath her. Her breath caught in her throat, then returned in rapid gasps as he peered up at her from between her spread thighs, her knees dimpling the bed on either side of his head. She watched, rapt, as he ran his tongue up the crease of her thigh where it met her hips, right up-

" _Oh god-_ " she moaned, feeling Steve begin to  _clean up the mess he made._

Hands in his hair, her eyes shut as her spine curled above him, braced and secured by his splayed hands across the back of her hips, one more thought running through her brain before Steve  _fuckin'_ Rogers burned them all up:

_What have I gotten myself in to?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd that's it for this one, for now. But I do like this pair and if ya'll wanna see more of them, let me know! Your comments encourage me to try all the things. <3


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